Ezra finally lets go

Ezra's body took a long time to shut down.He passed around dusk yesterday. His stimuli and reactions showed a body without a spirit, and for a body that was so malnourished and elderly, he hung on much longer than any other goat I'd witnessed die in my eleven years here.

It was an uncomfortable few days for me and took its toll. While I feel his spirit was not there, it is hard to watch the silent struggle. If I'd known what I know today, I might have acted differently on Friday. But I am not going to beat myself up-I did my best for him. He was really not present for the past 24 hours.

I sang him my standard, "Over the Rainbow" but also opted to sing some "Felling Groovy" renditions. Sir Tripod Goat and Old Rudy continued to eat normally by his side in the duck hut, and in a strange way, Sir Tripod Goat seems to have warmed up to me more over the past weekend, perhaps he senses for real now, that I am caring for them all.

I think Ezra and Mrs. Aster, and the entire herd that was taken off the property where they had lived for their entire lives are the saddest cases I've dealt with. But this morning I think there is something nobody ever really said, and I feel it strongly. I always felt Ezra arrived here a broken man. We all surmised how hard it was to lose his herd, slowly, through neglect-some died in front of him, some were put down later. One by one, they died or left. But, perhaps the real loss for Ezra was when the humans who cared for him physically failed. At one time they truly care for the herd. They had grown elderly too and suffered with dementia. The caretaker did not understand how to care for the goats. Who knows how long that went on, I don't, nobody does. But it was evident inside the home the herd had been loved and cared for once.

I think perhaps that was the first huge loss for Ezra, when the elderly couple failed. Ezra's sense of everyday normalcy was lost.Animals like and need consistency in their environments to feel safe. When the humans got dementia he lost that daily safety net.

I think Ezra was tired and worn out. His body was ravaged of nutrition and spirit for enough time that he couldn't pull through. If I could get him to the spring and get some weight on him, I thought. But that was not the way his body dealt with it.

Even in the end when he was still aware of me, I sensed a goat that was wanting to let go, but had had to let go so many times, and just wasn't sure if this letting go meant he'd end up all over again in a new place.

I am just so relieved for him. And Martyn is relieved for me. He watched me all weekend, in and out of that hut, reassuring me I was doing my best.

Transported with old goats in a duck hut

Yesterday Ezra was clearly declining. He did manage to come out of the duck hut to be in the other shelter, but lay down and never moved. He continues to not eat and has physical symptoms of a life ending. By day's end, I cleaned up his soiled bottom and carried him into his duck hut. He likes it in there and always has, it's intimate and safe, secluded without being out of eyesight of the others.

I did feedings around five yesterday evening. It was pouring, has been for days. I crawled into the duck hut to be with Ezra. He was reclining, not cast, but definitely in a position not normal for a healthy goat. He was very calm. His heart beat was very erratic. Every now and then, his hind legs would kick out, a sure sign of the body shutting down. But his kicks were very weak.And he would let out little sighs about every ten minutes.

Within time, Sir Tripod Goat came in and sat to our left, and Old Rudy came in and went to my right. The hut is about 6 feet long and 4 feet high. It meant a lot that Tripod came in, as he is still figuring out who I am and if he trusts me.

So there we were, the four of us, three old crippled goats, and one middle aged lady goat, sitting under a tin roof in the rain. It was so peaceful. This is how death should be I thought, but rarely is.

I asked Ezra if he had seen Heaven yet, or his old mates. Then I asked him to look for my parents. I think the feeling of being in that hut, in the rain, cocooned and dry while the outside world got wet and went on and on without me in it, I think that just took me back to my little fort in the sumac bushes in my old homeland of Minnesota where I grew up. I would often go to that hut, on my own, maybe take the poodle, and sit for hours. But I had a warm house and dinner or cookies waiting for me when I was ready to go back to the house. I think that duck hut, surrounded by my current mates, reminded me of that.

When I left the hut, I said my good byes to Ezra. I really felt that was it for him. But I felt so relieved he was so calm and peaceful and did not appear to be in discomfort, no teeth grinding, or moving about. I went and checked on him at 9pm before I went to bed and was surprised he had repositioned himself to be more upright. I was really shocked.

I expected him to be gone. But this morning he was laying upright, in a pretty normal position. He still was all messed up and I cleaned him up again. He refused water and food, all day. He has not moved all day from that spot.

I am once again reminded that death can take time. The body has to shut down, often slowly. I know when a person is in hospice they explain to the family that the dying person often rebounds a little, and you think, "Oh, maybe he won't die," but they do a day or days later. I think of the body as all these little bits of energy getting turned off one by one as we die. When my father was near death in home hospice, my mom said he sat up one morning and said, "I'm still here." He died a few days later.

So I won't make a prediction. But Ezra is lowing checking out...it appears.

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Ezra struggles

Well, dear old Ezra is struggling.

When he arrived from New Moon Farm, what, a month ago, he was stronger although not very well off due to the neglect. He never ate well here, but did okay with hay-and he was and is very thin-which can take 6 months or more to get on one of these old guys.

But he always called out in the morning and anytime I came to the barnyard. He has not really bonded with anyone yet though, even when Mrs. Aster [one of his old herd mates from the same neglect case] arrived. Once Mrs.Aster was failing, he seemed to distance himself from me a bit. He always seemed to have a 'shark eye' , somewhat distant. It is easy to put human emotions and spin on an animal. I do it in story and art, but in my caretaking and hospice work here, I try to step out of the human head, and be an animal. My sense with Ezra is...he is tired both physically and emotionally. He has been through so much upheaval in the past few months-losing the home he had, losing the humans he had that had dementia and couldn't care for him, watching two herd mates die there without care, then seeing another herd mate die shortly after at New Moon. He arrived here, and we brought home Mrs. Aster one of the last of the herd that was living [still one left up at New Moon] and he watched her fail. He knew. He knows now, I just know it. He's not afraid of "it". He is afraid when he falls and can't get up, which happened yesterday twice.

I've got him on probiotic this week and some vitamin regimes I do, learned from my vet. It's the same routine Aunt Bea got, or all the others. But in the last two days he's had horrible diarrhea. His hay eating has declined. Sometimes the damage even on a young animal from starvation can't be overcome, add to it his old age and his body might be ready to switch off. I clean him up and sit with him a while, try to sense him. I sang him a song last night, told him the herd was up there when he was ready. I suppose you can call me dramatic, but I just don't think he has it in him. But he until he is either in complete distress, or he takes his last breath on his own, I'll keep up the regime. He has his little duck hut that he feels safe in, and usually in the morning Sir Tripod Goat is there. I asked him last night if he could make it to spring, and warm sun, it might help. But he just seems to be losing his touch with the here and now. It is as it will be.

Ezra lands safely and I am just a conduit

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We awoke at three a.m. on Friday, and left at 3:50 to drive up to Arlington, some 6 hours away. We had breakfast with Northern Mother - a real treat, usually when we pick up a goat, it's "Hi, gotta run!" and head back. But we had a nice catch up talk over breakfast, then packed the old goat up and headed back to Apifera, making it home around six. As we've gotten older, the 12 hour drive nearly kills us, but never does.

This is the 16th elderly, crippled goat we've adopted from New Moon Goat Farm Rescue. I just can't imagine a life that didn't have any of these elders in it, or New Moon. Ezra is settling in well. He has gravitated tot he lower Misfit village-he told me very clearly that is where he preferred for now. I had him in the upper barnyard for the first night, let him explore and he head down that way, and he kept returning there. I don't know if he was attracted tot he outdoor huts which he might be used to, versus the enclosed barns. He also feels safe with Stevie. Man, that Stevie-talk about a healing presence.

Time and time again, people ask me why I keep doing this. After all, some of the elders don't live long-they lived in neglect somewhere for months or years, hanging on, and when they arrive at a safe place, they let go. Some don't, and fight on to a healthier state. I have a stock answer for the question now: "I don't know why, but I feel called to do it, I feel comfortable doing it and I like doing it."

Sometimes I see a creature in need of adopting, and I step away from the computer. But often they stick with me for days. Floyd was like this, Guinnias for sure. Sometimes the ones that stick with me and then come here to live are the ones that die within a short time-Lofa was like this, as was Floyd. Honey Boy. Aunt Bea to name some. I had picked out one of Ezra's herd mates weeks ago, but he died within a week of arriving at New moon, he was the worst off of the bunch and it is such a blessing he died in love and care.

I guess what I'm trying to explain is-I don't think I'm doing this alone. Universal forces seem to use me as a conduit in many cases. I can see there are eye rollers out there, but i truly feel and believe this. I don't think every Misfit comes this way, but many do. I just want to be open to being of service to the ones that need companionship as they die. It is not a life for everyone. I don't consider myself a 'rescuer" and balk at he term. I consider myself a conduit of service-for all creatures and that includes people.

And I think my work as an artist and writer are also conduits of service-for healing, joy, grieving and introspection.

I think being with any creature at the beginning of their lives is truly a miracle-so many physical things have to work and come together to create life. It is astounding in both animals and people when a baby pops out-even if it is ants hatching eggs. But when you come into the world, there is at least one other being with you-a mother ship of some kind to grab you, feed you, hold you, touch you. You and that mother enter your life together. And as you grow, you can share that moment somehow. You have photos of first steps, first breaths, and stories from your mother if you are lucky.

But death is a solo journey after your last breath. I've always been fascinated with death. It doesn't scare me. I don't think it is helpful to see life and death as yin and yang, but rather as a continuum. So many people seem terrified of death, and when it comes to the death of an animal, many on the social media platforms seem to think it is the absolute worst outcome. I have seen many good deaths, and some bad ones. We all hope for a good death for our loved ones, our pets, and for ourselves. But being present at any death is, for me, helpful-not only for the dying but for those left behind. I guess I should say it is helpful for the dying if the caretaker comes at it without drama in their heart. Death is drama, I guess, but I mean that I always try to enter a hospice situation of an animal with calm, because that calm emits onto them. An animal doesn't need me blubbering over them at this time. Of course, there can be tears, but ears can be shed in calm, sobbing can be done over a dead body. I think the most traumatic event I had here with the Misfits was not being able to get Floyd up, and having to cover him with my own body to try to keep him warm, watching the dusk come, waiting and hoping for Martyn to arrive, which he did-then having to drag him with the tractor due to the hill, and his weight, it was horrible. I kept telling him it would be okay, but I know he sensed my fear. I regret that as a care taker-but you do your best.

Years ago I realized there was this entire thing called "hospice". I was young, in my thirties and thought,

"Someday, I'd like to work in that area, somehow."

And here I am. I certainly didn't plan it. I know when Old Man Guinnias came to Apifera, as our first old creature, something clicked inside me. The fact that he had been relinquished to a goat rescue by his family as he entered his elder years, just grabbed me. He arrived at 15-very old for a goat, and lived to be 21.

But I'm not done. I still want to do better at bringing people together with The Misfits-elders, grieving people, wheelchair bound or blind people-all to commune with the animals that once been neglected. I've done much of this in small ways, one on ones, but I want to do more. I will continue to work towards that in the coming months and years. I will do my best to be that conduit.

Help bring another elder, crippled goat to Apifera

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When I saw this story I immediately knew I had to take on one of these elders. And we'll be making the 12 hour drive to pick up this crippled little fellow. I asked Martyn if he might be p for a drive, not telling him to where, and he said "Sure". Even after telling him it was the familiar 12 hour round trip north to get an old goat, he didn't bat an eye. Sainthood must be next.

I immediately liked the name, Ezra, and looked up the meaning. I felt a lump in my throat. Of Hebrew orgin, the name means "help". It was like he was reaching out all along, and was finally heard. It's also the name of the poet, Ezra Pound, and you all know we already have a poet in our midst, so I think having another is a worthy addition.

Ezra is over ten. He was part of a small herd of Pygmies that were relinquished to New Moon Goat Farm Rescue up in Washington {this will be the 15th goat we have taken from them!} . The entire herd of elders was very malnourished, lice ridden, on their knees from foot issues, and most are arthritic and crippled from the neglect. When New Moon was called to take the goats, she went immediately, but two were laying dead in the paddocks, malnourished. She got the herd of six remaining goats to her farm, and I had my mind made up to take the worse off goat, but he died within the week. But as Ellen said, he died in a warm barn, being cared for–she and I have often discussed how a goat like this can get to a place they feel comfortable and safe, and they let go. This is a gift for them and it is part of taking these old ones on-you know they might not make it, but you also know you are helping give them a safe place, to either let go, or thrive for some more months or years. So I hope we get him in time to help nourish him-no matter what, we'll do our best for him.

Ezra is said to be a sweet tempered little fellow, very arthritic and crippled, but gets around okay. I thought he might be a good pal for Scooby Keith. It is very cold out and will continue to be cold until next week-but it is dry. I've seen it repeatedly where a malnourished elder arrives, it turns cold, and they don't have much resistance–sometimes they don't come out of it.