Exciting News!

For those of you that follow my friend Anne's blogs...  (a.k.a. chicamom85)  Sassy Sasha the Lovable Shih Tzu, Comfort Food Warms Your Soul, and/or My Husband, Love and Soul Mate is on Kidney Dialysis I just heard the most fabulous news:

Her husband has received a new kidney!  The surgery went well.  Please pray that there will be no problems with rejection or infection.

On a sad note...  Anne's mother passed away this morning.  This has to be a terribly emotional time for her.  Remember her family in prayer at this time of loss.

Thank you.

To Everything... Part 2

You've heard the old adage... 'They come in threes.'  Well, they did come in twos.  I hope there are no more...

 

No sooner had our grief for Buddy eased to

bearable, than Mr J noticed Oreo wasn't acting right.

(Oreo got his name from the

big white 'O' on his belly.

As he grew, it became

more of a 'C'.)

Normally, Oreo is the leader of the pack; but on this day, the others were in the pasture while Oreo was standing alone behind their house.  That never happens!

Goats have a tight herd.  Even when Elvis played the loner, he was never more than 15 feet from the others.  When the leader takes off for the woods, the others will stop drinking to follow.  That's just their nature.

Oreo developed respiratory symptoms.  I injected him with antibiotics for a few days, and those symptoms improved, but Oreo didn't.  He grew weaker.  We've been told that goats are a lot like chickens... when you notice they're sick, it's usually too late.   That's proven true.  We started with six goats.  Lost one.  Gained another.  Lost two in one year.  Now Oreo.

Oreo was probably Mr J's favorite goat.

He had a funny personality...

always first to investigate 

current happenings.

(Whenever Sadie entered the gate,

the others would hide behind Oreo,

leaving him to determine the danger.)

This past Sunday, two-and-a-half weeks after we buried Buddy, we buried Oreo.

His grave is next to Willie's.

Rest in peace, Oreo.  We miss you!

To Everything There Is A Season

...and this has been a season of goodbyes.  I resisted writing this post, but I knew I couldn't write about anything else until I got this out.  

You all know how much I love Maggie Mae, and how much concern I have over her age-related issues.  (Newbies:  She's a 30+ yr old thoroughbred.)  Lately, I've worried about her eye sight.   Her cataracts are growing and I don't know how she will react to near blindness.  Friends have assured me that I have things in place to help her feel secure even without the sense of sight.  I hope so.  I've battled her weight issue... it's been hard keep her at a healthy weight.  She can't chew well, so I make her a mash.  I finally started mixing my own recipe that seemed to get over a hurdle with her metabolism.  She has finally started to regain muscle mass.  Even though her physical condition is better than it was a year ago , I still planned in my mind the things I would do when it was 'her time'.

I vowed to never again part with Maggie Mae.  She will be here until the end.  That means that I needed a plan in place to take care of the inevitable.  I already had someone volunteer to dig the hole and help take care of the burial.  I'm not gloomy... just practical.  I had no idea that I would make that call so soon.  I was especially taken aback by the fact that it wasn't Maggie...

September 11.  That date has significance to most of us.  Now it has more to me... 

Everything was fine that day.  We were in a drought, so the horses were really enjoying all the daily pasture time.  I called them in for 'brunch' (my horses are on 2nd shift) and the three of them eagerly came.  Buddy and Nekoda ate in the stalls, while Maggie stood in the aisle for her mash.  Maggie is slow to finish her meal.  I was busy inside the house when Mr J asked me if I wanted him to let the horses out...

Returning, Mr J said, "You need to look at Buddy.  He's really sick."  

I don't want to rehash all the details here... the wound is still too fresh.  I will share that we had two vets come out and misdiagnose him.  When I finally took him to an equine hospital on Tuesday afternoon, it was too late.  They tried their best, but it was one of the worst cases of choke he'd ever seen.  He told me to take Buddy home and pray.  The doctor assured me he wasn't in any pain, but by the next day he would start to suffer.  If I didn't get a miracle that night, Buddy had an 'appointment' the next noon.

That evening I watched the sunset from Buddy's favorite pasture.  I sat in the grass beside him and prayed for a miracle that didn't come.  We buried him at noon on Wednesday.  

Rest in peace, Buddy, dear friend.

No matter how much

our hearts were broken,

no one grieved as much as Nekoda.

She looked for him for days.

To be continued...