The pastor said in an email yesterday that they'd send out another message by 7 a.m. today letting us know if church was cancelled due to weather. He sent that cancellation message out at 11;30 last night. Instead of warming temps and rain we got steady just-below-freezing temps and more freezing rain. We've now got something akin to an all-white Oreo cookie, a layer of ice, 4" of snow, and now more ice on top of that. Today's forecast is 48 degrees and rain. As I write this (7 a.m.) it's 29 and still with the freezing rain.
OK, work with me here. What follows is not what it's going to look like as I begin.
We need better weather so we can drive over to Marta's, out in the woods north of Noti, to get antibiotic injections for the goats. Roads are way too dangerous now. The scours hasn't improved and now they're both running a fever. That suggests the problem is coccidiosis, an intestinal parasite that's pretty serious and causes permanent damage to the intestinal track. It would be rare in kids this young but not unheard of, and at this point it's one of the few possible causes left. As this continues it's taking a toll on them physically, if not addressed soon can cause death, and the longer it goes on the more permanent damage is done. So as weary as we are of changing seriously messy diapers on two goat kids and trying to corral them as they tear around our tiny living room, stopping only to jump on or chew on something - anything - that grabs their attention, our primary concern is for their health. Once they and the weather are better they can move out to the barn, we'll give this place a VERY thorough cleaning, and some sense of normalcy will return.
When I've written about our goat related trials and travails here or on Facebook (is it significant that I just mistyped that Fecalbook?) I sometimes get responses like:
- "Pam is such a saint."
- "Pam must be wondering why she let you talk her into this."
- "Is she still happy with the choice to move to Oregon?"
We both get irritated with this. As I wrote briefly in last night's post, it implies she's a wimp who was dragged here against her will. It also suggests I'm selfish enough to do that. Wrong on both counts.
Here's the truth: this intro to the world of goats has not gone like any of us thought or wanted. We've had a worst-case scenario almost from day one. We feel bad about it, Marta feels bad about it, and even people on the goat forum have been sympathetic. If you saw our living space you'd find it hard to believe I am my mother's son. There's a big dog kennel in the corner of this 13' x 13' room, and on top of it are most of the things that could fall victim to a goat's curiosity. There are pieces of alfalfa hay on the floor, the kitchen counters are covered with package of diapers, wipes, and onesies, and the fridge is full of bottles for the day's feedings. Five times a day things come to a halt while we feed two goats their bottles. Probably eight times a day, maybe more, we change disgustingly messy diapers in what could pass as a WWC contest. And if you're wondering how a diaper fits on a goat's diarrhea-afflicted body the answer is "not well or effectively." I'll let your imagination take care of the rest of the imagery.
We're both ready for this to be done. But as I told her at the end of the day on Friday, "I like doing life with you." She replied, "Me too."
We're doing this mess together. We've discovered a division of labor and routine that works about as well as it could. Except for the 6 a.m. feeding/changing when she's in bed and the 10 p.m. feeding/changing when I'm in bed we divide and conquer. At bath time she does Asante (the smaller one) in the sink and I bathe Itzhak in the tub. We spent an hour Friday figuring out the feeding regimen for the next two weeks, writing down each goat's prescribed volume and schedule as the former goes up and the latter goes down (eventually to two feedings per day as they approach weaning).
This challenge, like all others over 45 years of marriage, has become an adventure we are doing together. And that has been a very good thing, the silver lining in this otherwise stormy experience. We're laughing often at the craziness and problem solving together.
That's probably the key word. Together. As long as we do this together, as a unit, how can it not be good?
"I will make a helper suitable for him" (Gen. 2:18).
So for those of you worried about Pam, don't And I'd suggest you not tell her you wonder about how committed to this life she is. This isn't how we thought things with the goat kids would go, but neither was the diseased trees, the budgetary challenges, or things like frozen pipes. No matter, it's all OK. Because we're doing this together.
3 comments:
What Craig has said about my part in all of our adventure is so true. I love living in the country and, even though it's a challenge, having these two goats in the house has been an experience I wouldn't have wanted to "no" to. They are amazing little creatures. I love watching their development and the new things they do everyday. I'm having fun! We worry about their health, but are working hard to resolve their issues...and loving them.They do like to cuddle and that's the best. Who else has a goat jumping up on their lap wanting to snuggle and go to sleep. I am thankful we can experience all of this together.
I've never gotten the impression that Pam isn't just as happy and excited to be a part of all this as you are. On a separate but related note: All this would make a great next book for you to write! It could be about your first 5 years or so of doing this homesteading kind of life. I honestly think it would be a fun, interesting read!
To begin with, Pam IS a saint. The reasons have nothing to do with putting up with goats, country living, or being in a single wide - it's because she puts up with YOU. C'mon now ... even you've got to admit she's a saint for that fact alone. :-)
Post a Comment