In which Old Man Guinnias the old goat returns to me

It has been sometime since I heard from Old Man Guinnias. If you have followed along here, you know Guinnias was the first elder goat I took on at our old farm in Oregon. To say he became a crucial companion, and precursor for things to come, is an understatement. He was a muse, but caring for him also allowed me to navigate through my elder father's death, who was in home hospice in Minneapolis, and I was not able to be there with him as he took his final journey off of Earth.

In my dream, I was helping someone pick up some rescue animals, and there was a huge goat, who looked like Stevie, but this goat was the size of a bull and he had huge testicles, and I thought an intact animal that size would be problematic for our farm. There was a small kitten. And then, there was Guinnias. I was so happy to see him, and I thought to myself,

Well, he is coming home with me.

It was a clear message to me, that he is there, and here, and he never really left. The reason this dream was important, at this moment, is I have been pondering my role in how I work with elder people, and I began doubting myself this past couple of weeks. Doubting oneself leads to more doubt, I find, and the hot weather with humidity also makes me go into less optimistic frame of mind. I began to wonder if I was doing enough for the animals, and was I able to keep a healthy boundary when I work with some elders who I get to know as people. I began to look back on all the animals I had taken on, with open heart, but also a realistic understanding that they might not last long. But working with animals that I know are not long for this world, is different than working with people that are not long for this world-for many reasons. For one, I am the sole caregiver of the animals, I call the shots, along with Mother Nature of course. I know what happens to them, I bury them, I get to have that immediate and important ritual. In my work with visiting elder people, I can walk into a place and not know where someone went, they just disappear one day, and privacy laws don't allow me to know. Even though I've reached out to some staff about my feelings, they have not addressed them at this point. So I am grappling with how to create healthy boundaries for myself, and I'm searching for role models to help me.

And then Guinnias came to me in the dream, and he walked right over to me, without doubting me, like he knew I was safe and he was safe with me. And I had no doubts in the dream of what to do.

Guinnias came to us at age 15, horribly thin, crippled, and we knew that 15 is already a very old goat. I thought he might last a year. He lived until 21 or more. He had been sent off to a goat rescue at 15 because the boy had gone off to college and the parents were tired of the goat showing up on the porch and pooping. Too much trouble to put up a fence I guess. As sad as it is when elder animals are abandoned, and often the ones that end up at shelters, in my mind, are abandoned [and some come from caring people who have tried to find good homes, or have had a sudden life change-a death of a spouse, or illness], I am glad they sent him to the rescue, because he came to me, and he was a conduit for my current life's work, and I also loved him, and yes, I believe he loved me in his goat way.

When I worked with Guinnias, many things seemed to relate to what my father was going through in his final days. And everything also took me back to conversations and memories of my father–Guinnias was crippled and his falling increased over time, and it made me care for him ever more tenderly because I knew from my father, how scary it for an elder to start falling. Once that happens, all sorts of restrictions can be put on them, and often they become home bound. In some ways, Guinnias was my conduit for letting go of my father. I knew he was dying, he had had a good life and was almost 84. He didn't want to die, and after many heart issues, and other things related to the failing heart, there was nothing left for the doctors to do. He had tried to get into a last ditch effort for some experimental program with Mayo Clinic, something that would put oxygen back into him to help his heart. But the heart was too weak, and they had to turn him down. My mother told me about that day, and she could feel his resignation in his silence as they drove home together. His number was up, and he knew it.

I had said my goodbyes to my father, about three months before he died, when I was back visiting over Thanksgiving. At that point, he was still up and about, could eat and drink and carry on pretty well. He was himself. But I knew this might be the last time I'd see him, since I lived on a farm out West. Getting away was expensive, and difficult. We did a lot of important things those few days, always with the knowledge of his pending death hovering around us. We watched 'Charlotte's Web", and held back tears, as so many conversations of the animals were the things we probably wanted to say to each other. As spiritual and emotional as I am, my family was not. They were loving, but were a pretty stoic bunch, with stock from strong farmers and scientists. When I went to leave, my father was on the couch. I sensed this goodbye could go quickly emotional, so I leaned down to kiss him good bye on his sweet old bald head, and as I neared his face, our eyes were locked on each other for seconds, intense seconds.

"Bye, Bob," I said, and he said, "Bye, Honey." We had wet eyes, but I high tailed it out of there and cried in the elevator instead. It was a moment and a sensation nobody experienced but us. It was our moment as father and daughter. I knew we were saying the goodbye.

When the final days of his life were apparent-hospice had been called in about two weeks before he died-my mother and I talked every day from a distance. She said he had fought the hospital bed, but once it arrived, she felt he gave in. I asked if she had told him it was okay to go, this is something I had learned, and I always told an animal it was okay to go. She had. And she said to me, "It's time for him to go." She had reached the point when a loved one is dying, where she knew having his body in the room was not what was important anymore, it was setting him free. His body had simply worn out, as they always do if you live long enough, and he was attached to a realm he had spiritually already left.

One day she said his little terrier, Sammy, quit going to be on the bed, and I knew that was it. I've seen this over and over, an animal senses when the person is now more spirit than body. A couple days later, he died.

Perhaps Guinnias just wanted me to know he's okay, and that he would welcome coming back to my care if he was on Earth. And maybe my father is okay too, it's just that Guinnias was more able to tell me. Whatever it all means, I was so happy to hear from him.

Listen in on an old goat cocktail hour

Old Goat Cocktail Hour available at shop

Back in Oregon, Old Man Guinnias, a remarkable goat in case you didn't know, started having a cocktail hour for the other elders. I had nothing to do with it. I have no idea where the gin came from, or the glass ware. I did catch this conversation one night as I did barn chores. It makes me think a cocktail hour might be something to suggest to the elders here. Spirits area fine companion under the setting sun, a way to release memories if done properly. There was that time Wilbur the Acrobatic Goat found Guinness's gin stash though. It's just, without The Head Troll, I am quite lost at organizing them all....perhaps someone will begin to be in charge and more cocktails will be served. We shall see.

"What time does cocktail hour begin?" asked Aunt Bea.

"Same time as yesterday, 5 pm," said Old Man Guinnias.

"When was yesterday?" asked Lofa.

"It was not today, but the day before," said Guinnias.

"What time does cocktail hour begin?" said Lofa.

The joyful season for us has begun

The air has cooled and the rains have lifted our spirits, and the hearts of the grasses, and while Christmas is usually what the commercial realm labels "jouyous" for us it has begun-with the harvesting of the pumpkin friends!

We shall eventually eat them all in one way or another-be it pig, dog, chicken or goat-but before we do we admire them, roll them around, and stand in them.

Harvesting of the pumpkins has become more complicated due to Muddy and Marcella. We used to bring choice pumpkins out to the house for decoration and enjoyment-but one by one, Mud would relish the flesh of his orange friends. I don't know if your dog has ever consumed a pumpkin a day, but the gas that ensuea is pretty overwhelming. Then it became apparent that Marcella would go to great lengths-although with her innate shape shifting abilities I don't think it was difficult for her- to dig under the pumpkin patch fence and eat parts of pumpkins, bringing the chickens in with her, and maybe a duck or two, to finish them off.

So this year I gathered the ripe ones and hid them in the vegetable area. We still are waiting for Old Man Guinnias's giant pumpkin-every year I plant seeds on Guinnias' grave, and a huge elephant sized pumpkin emerges. Of course you will be invited to that special event and I will write about here later this month.

When those we love return

In which an old goat, and my father return to me out of thread and cloth.

I sat down recently to work on a new creature. I had it in my mind to make a llama doll in honor of Aldo. I worked for a couple of hours and it became very clear that Aldo was not with me that day, but someone else was. It was so good to see Old Man Guinnias again. Just like I imagine him at times, out for a morning walk in the cool air.

I also recognized that my father was with him too. Hence, he is attired in fine fabrics including a hodgepodge scarf made of fine linens-all from my parent's collection. Those yellow linen napkins were ones we used at many dinner celebrations since I was very young. I made a quilt out of some for my home, but now am using them as I feel the urge in other items.

I felt very calm working on my doll, I always do. And the creature that presented itself to me was the creature I needed to see. Perhaps my father too was saying,

"Hey, what about me, I'm here too, don't forget me."

This is something my father might think, whereas my mother would not. My father never really understood how much I loved him, how much I wanted him to be happy in his post retirement, and how much I admired his talent as an artist, draftsman, engineer and architect. I remember sitting on the couch with him, months before he would die, and we were talking about drawing. I told him he was such a good draftsman and could draw anything [which he could].

"Really, you think that?" he asked.

What in the world had I not said enough that he would still, at age eighty three, think I didn't believe that. i know I'd said it over and over. Perhaps he wasn't listening. Or, perhaps he was just as unsure of his abilities as I am sometimes. We had a good relationship, I'm so grateful for that. We had our complications like any father-daughter, but we had much in common which can sometimes conflict with peace.

The older I get, the more I understand the man. I talk to him all the time, but in a very simple way.

I'll be struggling with some of my own insecurities that might bring out a reaction in myself that I don't like, and I think of him and something he might have done or words he might have chosen under stress that were hurtful, and I just quietly say to him,

"I understand."

A friend once said that everyone is damaged, but some people are more damaged than others.

I thought that was a really powerful way to look at others, and ourselves. I am blessed to have had a good childhood, not with perfect parents, but ones who never scared me, belittled me or bullied me. I liked them. I got to have them around in my adult years too and that can add a lot of understanding to the child-parent dynamic. You think you have it all together at thirty? Get to forty. You think you really added some wisdom and grounding in your forties? Travel on into the fifties. My parents shared many lessons, thoughts, fears and stories as they grew into their eighties. I know for a fact, if I make it to eighty, I will think of them at times as I'm putting one foot in front of the other, and say,

"I understand."

Letter from Old Man Guinnias

Old Man Guinnias, the first needy goat to be adopted by Apifera, died in 2012 at the age of 20. While he is buried in the pumpkin patch, he now floats, somewhere, and periodically writes Apifera - which always brings us joy. He is greatly missed but his current deeds show he still has much to give.

My Dearest Apifera,

I have not written for many weeks and now that I am in between rehearsals, I shall take time to catch up with you.

My life on the earthen floor brought things into my life that I least expected, and now I can share another unexpected turn of events - I have begun a dance company here for goats. We are known as "The Floating Goat Ballet Company". Many have just recently arrived and have great joy when they realize their once crippled legs can perform pirouettes, dips and leaps. Since leaving Apifera, I have recruited over 38 goats, some from as far away as Italy and one recently arrived from Northern Mother's place.

I can't say I miss Mother Earth, because I can see it at my feet, unless I am floating upside down and then it is above my head. I don't think of you in a literal sense, for every experience, person or animal that was embedded in my heart on the day I died floats with me. But I can tell you, each time you think of me, my beard blows the opposite direction.

We will be performing the ballet "Don Quixote" this season. I felt transformed by the aging nobleman's imagination.

There is much to do. I know you know that.

Fondly, and with love,

Yours,

Old Man Guinnias

New work...guided by Old Man Guinnias

I recently finished a nice project for University of Notre Dame magazine - four separate illustrations accompanying narrative articles.

I loved all the pieces, but I wanted to share this one and how it evolved. One of the articles was about a man who worked in hospice. He came to the conclusion that hospice work meant seeing the essence of another person and allowing the dying person to share in his essence. I had sent a sketch of an older woman emanating colors and pattern entwining into a man. I also sent some finished examples of past work, and one of those was a piece I did a couple weeks ago after Old Man Guinnias pasted away in the night. The art director found that piece so spiritual and wondered if it could be used as a starting point for this article.

At first I had an old woman on a cloud, but then realized the woman was still earthbound, though fading. But her faithful companion was floating, waiting to give her a special apple from the trees of the sky, where she'd return to her special chair.

Thank you, Old man, one more gift from you.

Letter from Guinnias

I knew he'd write. I knew it. I know he must be busy, settling, roaming, adjusting and I don't want to tie him down with my human needs. He must fly on and journey. But I do hope he writes me often. It's happysad to feel him come through me.

Old Man Guinnias has gone on

It's a very sad day for me. Old Man Guinnias was the first old creature to come to Apifera at age 15, crippled from foot neglect [we adopted him from New Moon Goat Farm]. But he just kept on ticking. Those of you that know me well, understand that this was more than a goat - he was a muse, a friend, an inspiration, a first. Every old man I ever knew or loved was wrapped up into that goat.  He will never be replaced. He will never be forgotten.

One dances through life with various muses, tapping a two step or lingering shoulder to shoulder to a love song. But in the end, one has to take the final dance alone. And so Old Man Guinnias quietly danced off last night without me. He was going into his twentieth year.

As I walked to the barn this morning, the usual sounds greeted me - the donkeys brayed, the horse nickered, the ducks spoke and I could hear the chickens flapping their wings in their coop anticipating the new day. The Head Troll was already up and out, and Professor and Stevie slept near the entrance to Guinnias' sleeping chambers. The pig was still snoring, only a few feet from the Old Man. And there he was, my beautiful old goat, on his side, eyes open but dancing far, far, away.

While I gasped as I saw him, I was prepared. In the last two weeks he had been getting weaker on his legs and falling frequently. He was losing weight and I couldn't keep it on him even with various supplements. On Sunday he couldn't get up without assistance and throughout the day he fell four times. I would hear him crying and I'd find him splayed out on his side, unable to right himself. A goat or ruminant is in trouble if they are on their side too long, especially an old fellow. On one fall, he had somehow turned his neck backwards. His uncrippled left side was simply unable to hold him up anymore. Thankfully I was in the barnyard all day working, so was able to rescue him each time, and with each incident, I held him and spoke with him about...everything.

He was no longer safe, nor could he do simple things he enjoyed - walking to the gate to meet me or standing in the sun. They say one will "just know the right time" to put an animal down. I have found that not always to be true. But yesterday, I knew.

And that inner knowledge was a gift, because it let me and Guinny have a day of goodbyes. I spent long spells holding him and telling him how special our journey was together.

"You were meant to be here, Guin, there will never be another goat like you, never," I said.

I sat in the stall and sang to him. His body pushed into me, unable to stand on its own, his head was on my shoulder. When I looked in his eyes, I saw dignity and a goat that was tired, and ready. I cried with him, his were invisible tears. Most importantly, I was able to tell him it was okay to go on, and I told him I'd do right by him and wouldn't let him suffer. It was time to let go.

When I put him to bed last night, I secured him in his stall so he would have less chance of falling. He was resting peacefully after his dinner. I had planned to call the vet this morning. But The Old Man did it his way. And I can't help see it as his final gift to me.

"She needs me to help this time," I felt those words from him this morning.

I am so appreciative I was with him so much, and especially yesterday. It was a beautiful, clear day and he had sun in his bones. Martyn offered to dig the grave but I needed to prepare it. It's my last gift to him, my last act of care. He will rest near Aunt Bea and Rosa's lambs and come summer pumpkins will shade him. He's wrapped in my first horse blanket that has kept so many other old goats warm in times of need and a small sheep and donkey will be his companions until he is settled. The animal crackers are from his special lady friend who loved sending him cookie care packages all the way from Connecticut. Their presence in his grave will remind me and him how far his love went, and how he made a difference to other old animals in need. The feather will help him float on days he might feel tired.

No more, "I love you's", no more blog posts tagged with his name, no old face waiting at the gate, no more sun breaks with Guin...but he's everywhere I go on this farm.

And as I documented in "Misfits of Love", I will honor Guinnias's request, when he said one day as we harvested pumpkins,

“Please face me toward the sun, and place my ear tips in a way so I can hear the sing song of the barnyard.”

Old and elderly mingle at lambie daycare

And the old goat will speak

We did it. I say 'we' because the fact that my Kickstarter project, "Misfits of Love", funded over the weekend was a collaborative effort. The combination of my heart mixed with the old souls in the barnyard all these years simmered and baked into wonderful stories and art...and some lessons.

Once born, these stories evolved and matured like any child and eventually found the right time to fly off, to be what they were going to be. They interacted with readers all over and many of those readers reciprocated with pledges. Like old geese returning to a needy mate, these stories will journey without me, landing where needed most.

Now the real work and fun begins. I am still reveling in a bath of light. I'm very proud! I have so many ideas. There are still 8 days so you can still pledge - I won't be pitching to you any more - but if you do pledge, the money would be used for more editorial/design help and would also offset any Paypal/host fees. I also am interested in making Podcasts and having the stories narrated. I will be in touch with pledgers in spring with any rewards they are owed.

I am going to think outside the box, which should come easy for me. While I do want to see a publisher pick this book up, I am weary of the slow grinding wheels and trepidation of many publishing houses. I got very depressed watching my memoir "Raggedy Love" sitting at houses and being turned down for being "lovely, but too quirky" or hearing, "It's just not a big enough platform". Perhaps that is another reason it has been very good for me to raise $8,750 in 48 days - I did that. While I will pitch the book to publishers, I also plan to move forward in any way I can to let the stories come alive to the public, via podcast, radio, articles, photo shows and more. So stay tuned. This is an evolution.

I held Old Man Guinnias extra close last night. He is becoming more crippled from his past neglect. His back foot, turned even more and weehttp://tinyurl.com/7c45h2ykend from overcompensating for his front shoulder [or vice versa] has begun to collapse more. But he still stands when I come for morning feedings, he still greets the sun and eats like a logger. One of my goals is to take as many photos of him as I can- my dream is he will see his story evolve and maybe I can sit with a book in my lap and read it back to him. He is nineteen now, as near as we can tell.

The countdown to stories unleashed

The stories from "Misfits of Love" will have a life of their own. The words of each story, printed on paper and then bound in a book, will be yours to mingle with, ponder, and retain meaning or inspiration of your own.

There are 32 days left to gather more pledges, with 29% being funded. Thank you to everyone who has pledged. There is a lot of legwork to do to get more pledges but I feel very strongly that I want these stories out there, in print, to be held.

It's easy to pledge. Your money is held [your credit card is not charged[ and only if the project is fully funded by the deadline will you be billed. Gift levels are spelled out at my page on Kickstarter where you can also read more on the project and see a movie.

But for now, I am posting one story [click "Read More" below] from the proposed book. It's an important one, as it is about the first old creature of Apifera, Old Man Guinnias. He is over eighteen now, and every year I hope for another, if it is meant to be.

The Tale of The Christmas Garland

One day Apifera received a big box from a kind woman who makes lovely hand made items. She had met many of the barnyard creatures while attending last fall's Art Workshop and inside the box were lots of animal crackers to be shared by them. But what caught the eye first was a beautiful garland of felt and wool she had made. Little did she know it would become a piece of great admiration by so many diverse characters. After last week's sadness, it was good to have such care free joy.

Old man conversation

I took these pictures this morning of my Old Man. He has started going out to the older barn in the morning and resting in a private doorway nook near one of the stalls. It provides him privacy, but with the sounds of nearby sheep and visiting chickens.

I didn't think too much of this in the past couple days, it is after all a place where many of the barnyard will congregate for shelter. It's about a 3"x 2" space and I can understand the temptation to snuggle down in the leftover hay to ponder the taste of chewed cud. Eggs are laid there, old geese have napped there.

But I had a conversation with Old Man Guinnias this morning. The cold rains have come today and he seemed a bit different. I do believe that certain animals hang on longer out of an unwritten code of ethics and I told him he could go anytime he needs to. It is selfish of me at this stage not share that with him. The day after we lost Honey Boy and Granny, I talked to Guinnias and I said, "You just keep on walkin' for me..." It's up to him and his body now, and he might just have a picture of spring in his mind, I don't know. All the animals here are loved and are unique, but Old Man Guinnias has a special place, as first old goat, and hanger on at 18.

When I photographed him today, I couldn't help but wonder if he placed himself in that private nook to entice me over, to take a fitting portrait of him - showing his most dignified, beautiful aged face.

Old Man Guinnias is one of the many old goats Apifera has adopted from New Moon Goat Farm/Rescue.

My Old Man

I had a day full of wierd emails, where I felt like I was the only working artist/writer in the world being rejected by...everyone. I suppose that's not logisticaly possible, but that's what it felt like.

So I went to the barnyard, and there he was, still limping along. I sang him the chorus to that old rock song,

"We are the champions, my friend, and we'll keep on fighting 'till the end..."

Song for an old man

Each day that he greets me at the front gate is a gift. His crippled joints are catching up to him, but he gets up everyday and follows me to the hay barn where he spends as long as he needs to eat his breakfast in peace, unencumbered from other goats or boisterous lambs. He teeters and totters and there might soon come a day when I must help him to comfort. So today I sang him this song.

Portrait sitting with an old goat

He approached the red barn like a movie star on a Hollywood set, waiting for the lighting to be adjusted just right to catch his best features. If he'd been clothed in red velvet, what King or Pope could compete with his beard or his proud stature?

He glances out to a horizon line with a calm, internal force that tells the world,

"I am Guinnias, I am here."

Old Man Guinnias came to Apifera after we adopted him from the  New Moon Goat Farm who had rescued him. He is one of five senior goats Apifera has adopted from New Moon.

Old lady and sassy lad arrive

They arrived late yesterday afternoon, just in time to experience their first evening call from Boone. While the chaos of the world continues and always will, the fact that two strangers offered to drive two needy goats to Apifera, a five and a half hour trip, is something to smile about. They asked for nothing in return, and I'm afraid the apple pie I made as a token of my appreciation was not my best, but it was warm.

We got Wilbur out of the crate first, and I noticed his scur [horn] area was bloody. I had failed to understand that he had recently had a stray scur cauterized while he was at New Moon Farm and Goat Rescue , and even though I assumed it was related to a scur and not serious, I treated it with some iodine just to make sure. Unfortunately, I didn't use my syringe, and Wilbur's lovely face is now a bit of a mess. Many apologies were presented to him, and by this morning, he seemed happy to see me.

Granny has missing front teeth, and what teeth she has are wobbly and crooked. Her tongue sticks out most of the time and she drools a bit. She is very gentle and loving, very friendly. Compared to Old Guinias, and Gertie and Georgie who came before her, she seems like a spring chicken...oh excuse me, I promised the hens I would not use that term.....what I meant was that she seems spry for her old age.

This morning Wilbur wandered the barnyard examining things, not very interested in me. But when he heard the donkeys bray, he came running for my side. It was quite charming, and from that moment on, I became his safe spot. As usual, Frankie is not the best welcoming committee, but Old Man Guinnias has been a gentleman.

Today's activities will be Barnyard Bonding, which will continue through the week. I have the hens in charge of barn tours. Cookies will be served at breakfast and dinner, as well as post nap time.

I want to thank everyone who donated for the adoption fees. You can still sign on to be a goat sponsor to help pay for feed, hay and miscellaneous meds.

Old man with purpose

To keep Old Man Guinnias feeling like he is contributing to the farm, I have named him  Nightly Sheep Checkman.

So far, he's taken this role very seriously. Okay, it's only been 3 days, but it's important for old men to feel like they are doing something really important.

"Guinnias, what's the count tonight?" I asked.

"Sixteen," the old goat said with authority.

A small yearling ewe ran passed him.

"I stand corrected. Make that seventeen," Old Guinnias said.

"Any trouble you need to note tonight, Guin?" I asked.

"Slight limp on Daisy, appears to be muscle related."

"I'll check that out, good work, Guin. Thank you."

"Welcome," he said. And he hobbled back to his stall, knowing his nightly cookie was coming soon.

More old goats for the old goat

1/22/11: A sad update: The old goat we had already opened our hearts to, died sometime in the night soon after we posted this. New Moon is heart broken, so are we, but we all know he died snuggled up to Granny, warm, and not alone. He was just tired, I think, and was ready to go and knew he was in a safe place. We still plan to adopt Granny, and hopefully maybe one more. Granny needs a week or so to get out of quarntine since she was being treating for lice. SO stay tuned. And we have one pron who thinks she can make the volunteer delivery for us!. Forest, rest in peace sweet man.

Now, I haven't told Old Man Guinnias, and only one chicken knows- because chickens really have a hard time keeping secrets. That's a whole 'nother post. But to keep Guinny healthy in mind and heart we will be adopting 2 more old goats from New Moon Farm Goat Rescue .
Update: thank you to Lisa and Ophelia for volunteering to drive the goats to Apifera!

As some of you know, Apifera recently lost two of our senior goat friends, Gertie and Georgie to old age. Gertie and Georgie were also adopted from New Moon, as was Guinnias, and now that I've had some time to lick my heart strings, I knew there was only one right thing to do. All animal loss takes its toll, and some really leave a visible dent. One has to take time to remember the one who was lost, giving the heart time to beat slower and then fill up with those memories, remembering it still has room for more love. There is always room for more love.

So two more short statured goats will come to Apifera and partake in afternoon cookie gatherings.

The goat seen here is currently named Forest, since he was found wandering in a national forest in Northern Washington state this winter. Noone came to claim him, and New Moon brought him to their rescue [bleats, hoof stomps, cud burping]. This fine gentleman was pretty rough, with a badly torn lip - a possible dog attack- lice, foot rot, very thin and not much zip. While his teeth seem to be that of about an 8+ year old, he appears much older and his age is unclear.

Granny [below] has no middle front teeth, so her tongue sticks out. Her feet are in bad shape from lack of care. So I'll have to work on that over time.

They will come here and live forever and ever , or until they melt into the sky. Georgie and Gertie were only with us 1+ years, but it was a year I can't imagine having had without them. While the older creatures might leave us sooner, they are the ones that have gone before us, done their time, and they need our care and comfort. We can all find ways to help one old creature, be it hoofed, winged or people toed, to live out their life knowing someone cares, is there for them always, and will be there to hold their hand or hoof when they are called by the wind.

You can sponsor the adopted old animals of Apifera if you like, at various gift levels.

Togther again: we lose Gertie

While this is a sad time, it is full of hope and possibility. A leaf falls and is eaten by worms, a father dies and his heart returns in memories and dreams, and an old goat dies and helps nourish the pumpkins. She whispers, "Go on, help someone else, you did your best with me."

Gertie has died.

I laid her to rest in the pumpkin patch next to her life time companion, Georgie, who died ten days ago. >

Gertie had fallen a couple weeks ago, and I knew her elderly days were numbered. I thought I was losing her then, but got her to rebound, and all this past two weeks, she was up and eating grass, getting around. But this past week, it was getting harder and harder for her to get up, and finally one morning, she didn't, and I found her struggling on her side. I knew it was her day to die. I've seen enough now to know it. I propped her up in a small corner she liked, and wrapped her in a horse blanket, then some hay to cover her since it was very cold. I surrounded her with two intact hay bales so she wouldn't be able to roll on her side. And then I waited. Three hours into the day, I felt it was best to euthanize her, since I knew it would be about 12 hours before she'd finally succumb to the inevitable- the rumen was unable to clear itself properly, the fluid was building up in her lungs, the heart and other organs were stressed, and eventually, she'd suffocate from fluid. It took Georgie 12 hours to die. I didn't want Gertie to go through it.

But all three of my vets, all at different clinics I use, were unavailable. I didn't want to put her through a bumpy drive into town. I checked her every hour, each time she was weakening, but still able to rally when I arrived, to make one sad, painful bleat- she was uncomfortable to say the least. By 4 pm, I simply asked the skies to take her, please, "You're going to take her anyway, let her go now." But the skies had their way.

I remembered the horse blanket I had in the barn, brand new, gifted for Giacomo, and never had the chance to use it with him. But for a 30 degree day in the barn, it was what I needed. Gertie was plenty warm from her hay and blanket, but the horse blanket kept us both warm together. I lay with her, literally, waiting, telling her stories, talking about how wonderful it was to have had her with us, and told her it would be okay soon. I was doing my best, I told her.

By 6pm, I felt her go somewhat unconscious, not responding to stimuli, but still breathing. I was freezing and went in to warm myself and have dinner. I returned around 8 pm, thinking she'd be unconscious and somewhat out of discomfort. But when Martyn and I entered the stall, she rose her head, and let out one last call, muffled in fluid. It was horrible. Foam was coming out her mouth. She was close to death, drowning. I cried, cried! "I'm so sorry! " and as she let her head fall into my one hand, I put my head to hers, and I gently covered her nostrils. She was dead in 30 seconds.

It was the hardest thing I ever did. It was the most profound thing I ever did. I felt very raw for hours, into the night. Just last week I talked to my equine vet about learning better ways to put an animal out of misery in emergency situations on the farm when a vet is unavailable. We ruled out guns. Overdoses are risky. There are few options left.

I did my best, little Gertie. She knows it. My only regret is I should have acted sooner. Even though I was with her, she suffered so much. What a soldier she was!

Oddly, a friend had come to visit the day after Georgie died two weeks ago and brought me two heart rocks for Giacomo's grave. She had no idea Georgie had died that day. So I told her I'd place one at Giacomo's and one on Georgie's grave. How prophetic it was she arrive with two heart stones instead of one, I told her. I hadn't had time to place the rocks, but when Gertie died, I realized they were met for these two little ladies, old, worn down and crippled, but very loving right to the last moments.

This morning, Old Man Guinnias switched places, and went to sleep in the corner that Gertie had died in.

Come Spring, I plan to adopt more seniors from New Moon Goat Rescuewhere Guinnias, Gertie and Georgie were from. To everyone who have sent animal crackers and donations in the past years to the Old Goats of Apifera, there will be more to come.