A Tale of Blizzard

Once upon a time, on the coast of Maine, in the path of a blizzard, a tiny cashmere goat was born. His arrival was highly anticipated, as his cousins had already been born. The farmer did her final walk around the enclosure as the winds began blowing over 65 and the snow curtained the area. She heard a small squeaking sound and could not place it at first. As she drew closer to the manger-filled with hay inside and under, she paused. The final doe left to kid was staring at her with great anger. 

The farmer knelt down to speak with the goat and as she did, the blood appeared. Just a spot here and there, but blood just the same. Droplets of blood in new fallen snow are difficult to ignore. The mother goat was being beckoned to come in under the shelter of the barn and each time a blat went out, she would trample the spot under her feet and stared at the farmer with great distaste. Each time she stomped, the farmer heard another muted squeak. 

At this time, the building storm forced the farmer to move the miserable animal away from the spot that seemed to be in distress. It was not an easy process as this doe had come from a very long line of bitchy cashmere goats. The farmer dug in the hay underneath the manger and came across a very small and barely breathing kid. Their eyes met and it was truly love at first sight. All the kid seemed to say is, "I'm going to die, please hold me for a while." The farmer said, "You shall be called Blizzard."

The mother had gone off, but was still looking in the farmer's direction as the farmer scooped up this precious bundle, wrapped him in her jacket and ran to the warmth of the house. The farmer sat up all night long, rocking the cold, listless body. Waiting for him to draw his last breath. It didn't come~not that night.

For three weeks the baby goat lived in the farmer's house. He slept at the end of her bed, woke her several times in the night for his warm formula, (and to get his diaper changed), followed her around the house getting into everything, and being a total and complete part of the family. That little guy had the most beautiful, fun filled three weeks that any goat has ever had in the history of goats. Then one night, just like the first night of his life, the farmer sat up all night with this beautiful creature who could not stand any more, who wouldn't eat anymore and who just wanted to cry. He left the next morning as the farmer drove him to the vet's. 

The farmer knew that she had done everything that she could have done. She really did. People and animals leave us when we have so many questions and absolutely no answers. All we can do is the best we can do. Love who we love. Do what is best. 

I loved Blizzard greatly. I will always love him. He taught me a lot about myself. I was blessed to know him...