Life, Death, and Resurrection

Last night we went to Rusty's to pick up our baby goats. We picked out three to replace the three we lost - though 5 weeks had changed their coats a bit, they were perfect. We picked out a sandy colored one who looked like Norbert - though when we got him last night, his coat had grown more pale and he looked much more like the other two boys we lost. I held him in my arms on the way home, filled with both joy and sorrow. We finally decided to name him John (yet another Beatle) after we saw the twins in action.

The twins are black in the front and reddish brown in the back - knowing Justin we will have pictures this afternoon. Originally they were to be john and George, however, after seeing them dodge the other goats and sneak through the fence and the wiggle all over the place - full of ornery personality - we decided they were the Weasley brothers - more so than the Beatles - So we have the twins Fred and George - hopping and climbing everything in site.

When we came home, Ringo had escaped from the pen - per usual. Only this time, it was cold - about 30 degrees - and Matilda our Big Kelpie ( thanks for that Ian) had decided he needed cleaning well because he smells like goat. This left him wet and cold on the grass - where I found him in the dark - bleating weakly. I picked him up and his eyes rolled. And all I could think is Please God, not another sick baby.

I brought him in, and handed him to Justin - he wouldn't take the milk bottle. We wrapped him in a towel and gave him to Jake to hold - he wasn't warming fast enough. Three hours, one heat lamp, a dose of Nutradrench, three microwaved towels, and a twice microwaved hot pack later - he started to perk up - and drank nearly the whole bottle of milk when I offered it to him. The goat sweater is going back on today - too cold out for a guy with no fur. I am sure the other goats will harass him - but at this point - it will be worth it not to have a nearly dead baby when I come home. I could pretty much do without that for the rest of my life.

I went out twice last night to check on the other goats, making sure they slept in between the warm straw bales I set up for them - they are pretty smart and decided to lay in a big pile of goats, all tucked in together. I dreamed again - but this time I dreamed I was dying and my dad had to give me shots and I apologized saying that no parent should have to bury their child and that I was sorry to put him through this. I woke up sobbing. Though the characters were different that was exactly how it felt when we lost Bubba and Little Bit - not something a person should have to do and yet it happened and thinking about it still makes me so very sad. I scooted over to Justin, laying my head on his shoulder until his warmth made me fall back to sleep.

But morning came at 6:45 - and on check number three for the goats I found them hopping over the straw bales looking for chow.

The Ridge feels complete - and this morning I realize that I finally have the life I have always dreamed of - and it only took me forty years to get there.