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I don't know. She was fine this morning. Mid to late afternoon, she was sleeping in shade, not near Willy or babies, which is unusual. Babies eating lots of solids now. She didn't let them nurse often or long any more. I thought she was taking a break from them in the heat.
As afternoon went on, babies became more agitated, as Mommy not there.
IT was maybe 4 or 5 o'clock before I understood that something was really wrong. She had moved, was lying down, breathing labored. She couldn't get up.
I put her in my Radio Flyer wagon with an old sofa cushion and rolled her into the front yard, so I could yell for help from passing vehicles.
My neighbor called a friend with goats. Friend said she thought it was bloat and Nilly would be dead in 45 mins, if dr. didn't cut open one of her stomachs to release gas. No vehicle, no money for vet.
I took vinyl tube off my home made air conditioner. I covered it with hand lotion and forced it down her throat into her stomach. I pushed on her sides and she aspirated some. She also had watery diarrhea. Goats normally poop several dozen pellets, the size and shape of rabbit poop. If they're sick, the worst that usually happens is the pellets clump like black berries. I'd seen some black berries the last two days, but thought nothing of it, as everybody's looking very healthy. Had to be Willy or Nilly, as babies' poopies are very tiny, like pepper corns. It usually clears up in a day or two. No big deal.
Now, she's squirting out the back end: Not like a goat, at all.
She moaned a lot. I made a sling from an old blanket, wrapped around her distended stomach, would lift her 'til she hollered. Sometimes, she'd vomit, which is almost unheard of in goats, and sometimes leak out the back.
I would get loud and keep stimulating her when breathing got labored and she rallied at least half a dozen times.
Then, the moaning came regularly, almost with every breath. Her neck went slack and she couldn't hold up her head. I extended her wind pipe. I put a chip of firewood in her mouth, to hold it open, so air could pass more easily.
I went around to the back yard to get another sofa cushion, so she'd be more comfortable. When I got back, she'd stopped breathing. It was seconds. I guess I shouldn't have left her. As long as I stayed, she kept fighting.
I punched her in the chest, screaming, "Babies! Nilly! Come here! Come on! Come back!" I put my hand over her nostrils and sides of her mouth and put my mouth over the front of hers, vomit and all. I must have given her CPR for over twenty minutes. Several times, I felt small muscle movements, but she just couldn't come back. She was trying, even then.
So, I sat with her while her brain died. I thanked her for the babies, for her friendship. I let her know it was ok, that I understood, that I'm not mad at her.
She's in the front yard, still in the wagon. The babies went to bed in their dog house in the animal shelter. Willy went to bed on an old sofa I have out there for them. The babies had been running in the yard, screaming for her. I let them & Willy stay around through all of this, although the babies didn't understand Mommy was sick and kept jumping on her. But I wanted them to know when she was dead, so it wouldn't be as scary as having her just disappear.
I can't dig a hole big enough for her. There's a pile of dirt outside the fence. The people who lived here before had a LOT of trash and burned & buried much of what they didn't just leave lying around. The pile of dirt is at the top of a slope, about ten feet long and six feet wide. I will have to lay Nilly at the bottom of the slope and just push dirt on top of her. I can't let the wild dogs and coyotes get a taste of goat meat; they'll kill all the others.
I lost one of my best friends tonight. I called KUNM's request line. Fortunately, the person on the board is Bob Otty tonight: old hippy, radical, suspicious of station management, always signs off with "Always Look On tthe Bright Side of Life" by Monty Python and refuses to bleep out the phrase, "Life's a piece of shit, when you think of it..." I told him it's an emergency and I don't have Rachel's home number. Would he mind paging her and giving her my number and not tell anybody, since Rachel's always so worried about someone thinking she's abusing some privilege of her job, including her pager.
She called, confused and probably asleep. She's not very smart about human feelings and it took her awhile to understand that I didn't need her to help me, as Nilly was dead. I just needed a human being who knows how much those animals mean to me to let me speak my sorrow. She finally got it. I thanked her for not being mad about the pager and the hour. She was tender and kind and said not to worry.
Kate, they've taken SO MUCH from me. And I've gone through so much to keep my ANIMALS, at least, safe and healthy. Did they HAVE to take NILLY?!?!?!?
The goats sometimes browse on vacant lots near by. One is catty corner to my place. Today, a guy in a van was parked right in the middle of that empty lot, his side window pointed right at my house, staring at me. He stayed out there for about two hours, staring at me constantly. The neighbor who came over to help tonight recognized my description of his van. He owns the lot. If I go over there tomorrow and find rat poison or something, I will call Animal Control. But I cannot guarantee that I won't do something to the bastard. I've been all over that lot with my goats. If I see poison over there, I'll know it was him.
My goats never eat poisonous plants.
My friend is dead. One of the best friends I ever had in my life. I'm embarrassed to say, but Nilly was always my favorite goat of the 2.
I don't know how I'll handle the babies tomorrow. They'll probably witness the burial. I doubt I could keep them away.
I'm so far beyond grief, my heart feels dead. Tomorrow morning, I'll have to see my friend, stiff and dull eyed. I couldn't get her eyelids shut. I'll have to bury my friend in the heat and prickles, all alone. It will take all day.
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