It was by then 4 p.m., cold, a storm was rolling in. I had to go to Anchorage for body awareness training. I was, once I got there, amongst city people with city concerns. I told Shari, my instructor, why I was late, and the reason did not seem to register with her. I didn’t tell the other six students that I had a sick goat at home because I knew they would not be able to comprehend this.
I did fret some over the weekend. And on Sunday evening, the first thing I asked Pete was “How is Rover doing?” his response was he was okay. Pete (in my absence) put a fleece vest on Rover, and gave him salt and bicarbonate a few times a day. And Rover rallied.
When I got home Sunday he was lying in the goat house, in the sphynx position, was alert. He ate some packer pellets, and took salt and bicarbonate of soda out of my hand. This morning he was in the goat house outside the shed. When I went outside and did the chores (first chore, to check on him) he was standing next to Ranger; a good sign, indeed.
The trick has remained to keep him hydrated. The temperatures are dropping and the water in the buckets is freezing, so we must be vigilant about keeping it warm.
The sun is now shining brightly, the new fallen snow is clinging to the tree branches, weighing them down. I am (in a few minutes) going to go out and open the back door of the goat house and put in fresh bedding. I’ll then give him more salt, bicarbonate, and spruce bows.
Pete has class today. It’s the first day of spring semester. Winter break is over. Sure went by fast. Always, we say at the end of it, what did we get done? Either we really didn’t get anything done, or our short term memories are fried. I think that it’s the latter. Pete’s going to pick up some special goat salt and propylene glycol at the feed store on the way home. Both will aid digestion.
We are not out of the woods yet, but we are at the forest’s edge, peering out at the snowy world beyond the branches. I know that sometime in the near future that it will be Rover’s time to head elsewhere. But I don’t feel like it now that time.
Next: 18. 1/18/17: The Contemplative Life