City - My woods State - SEATONVILLE/SPRING VALLEY Country - United States
About
Remember when I had to bury our old dog? I wrote a bit about that… Just a Dog. Well, last night I went to bed with three Pygmy goats in the back field and when I trotted downstairs this morning for the breakfast coffee MM looked at me and said, “Do you know where your shovel is?” Heck yeah I knew where it was. Right in the place I left it. “Why?” “Jill is dead.” “Ah.” I made omelets for breakfast. Mine had three cheeses and a bit of green pepper. Topped off with freshly ground black pepper. Sat down and watched a bit of History Channel show on the Battle of the Somme. Seems the Brits lost 20,000 dead on July 1, 1916… Brilliant planning… HEY! I finally finished hanging the Christmas lights on the garage today. AND… found the large wreath (with red lights wound in it) for the front of the house. I went back to old style Christmas lights this year. EVERYONE and their kin are doing those icicle stringy lights now. I went back to circa 1963 and put up string after string of those solid simple large bulb lights. MM is not real happy with them but I like being the only house within 500,000 feet to have them up. Tried to load some old computer programs tonight and had nothing but trouble. I guess I should just throw them out. Another thing!!! I went to Princeton… err, wait, where was I….. oh yeah! So I guess Jill died last night. Not a big surprise because she was almost 14 years old and the life expectancy of those goats is around 8 or 9 years. And she had been sounding a bit croupy for a few months. So after my morning eggs and coffee I rounded up my shovel and went out to the back pen area. I found Jill. Not that big a job really, she wasn’t moving. I bent down to pick up the carcass. Ok… now I am not squeamish but this was just wrong. A pygmy goat is rather large around the waist and soft and bellows-y. Every time I tried to pick her up I squeezed some air/gas out and she made a gurgling/wheezing sound. It was like playing the Scottish pipe I tell ya. And sounded about the same. Squeeze… wheeze. Hmmmmm…. I went into the tack-room by the horse barn. I found a lunge-rope-lead thingy. Fastening it under and around Jill I pulled it tight then dragged her about 200 feet. I had to heft her up and swing her between barbed wire strands. Then clambered through the fencing… picked up the tossed lead end and finished my journey. I tossed her into the hole. She landed with her head bent back up and under her body. Even I thought that a bit uncomfortable. I reached in and tugged on her ears… to free her head… the body gargled at me again. It was very muddy ground. It stuck to my shovel with every scoop. I did the work of three hole-diggers. And when I put it back over her, I had to stab and push and force the wet dirt back into the hole. I have buried pets and such in all seasons. We had a dog once and I buried her in frozen ground. Chopped and jammed… that was easier than doing the mud-hole one. So anyway, Jill died last night and I buried her this morning. It was the right thing to do. At least I had the commonsense to put her underground. My sister-in-law, several years back, tossed one of her dead goats onto a huge burn pile and tried to cremate it. Every stray dog in three counties came by a few days later and had a chunk of grilled goat. Her yard was dotted with goat bones. There were thank-you notes pinned to her barn. One I found rather well written for a mutt. It read: “Thank you for the first hot meal I have had in months. I will make this a regular stop of mine in the future. And I will inform all my friends.” I have that note somewhere…
Hey! That was pretty dang muddy ground! The hole started out a perfect rectangle and ended up a, "G's-Us... this is tough goin! round kind'a one." Honest, if it was easier digging the hole would have been properly scuffed out.
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