Some aspects of ranch life I will never find easy to take. I do not know why death has to be such a constant companion of nature.
I got a week-old baby goat last week which I tried to get one of my mothers to accept. When they wouldn't, I took her in the house to raise like a puppy. I bought her diapers made for dogs (she never had an accident in the house, once) and I bottle fed her. She romped around the house and followed me all over the ranch. Her name was Rambler and I really adored her. Every afternoon I put her out with the other goats for a few hours so that she got use to being with goats as well as people. Then we'd do back to the house and she would sleep on my lap or explore the house until she got tired, then crawl into the bed I made for her and sleep through the night.
Thursday evening, I went to town and I became so exausted I couldn't figure out where I was or what was going on around me. I got myself to my sister's house and just crashed. Was about as wiped out as I have been in a long time - could barely function. I slept until late and then limped home. I had put Rambler in the goat pasture before I left for town and I checked on her briefly when I returned, then left her there. I didn't have the energy for anything but sleeping. I went to bed.
The next morning I found her dead. I assume she got trampled by the other goats and, without a mother to protect her, couldn't get out of the way. I didn't know that was a risk, but I should have. I have seen it happen before - small things can't get by without protection. I stood there stairing at her and I couldn't believe my little one was dead. I kept begging myself to do something differently, but it was too late. I went back to the house and crawled into bed. I cried all day. I should never have left her out there. I should never have left her out.
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