The Animal Whisperer is finishing the deck. He is working feverishly with his brother but he has to stop to take the goats to the vet to have their TB test read. No one will allow their bucks (boy goats with nuts) to breed with our goats unless our’s are CAE and TB free.
CAE (caprine arthritis encephalitis) is a nasty disease NO ONE wants their goats to have, and won’t touch you or your goats with a 30 foot pole if yours do have CAE.
It can infect the whole herd of healthy goats if a breeder lets a CAE infected goat come to visit.
TB, I haven’t learned why yet, is also a not-to-be-bred-with disease.
I have not yet heard of iron lungs for goats or seen any of those little one goat huts outside hospitals with goats out in chairs in the snow wrapped up in thick blankets soaking up the Vitamin D and taking in the healthy Colorado air.
This technique cured my great-grandpa, but apparently doesn’t work with goats.
Anyway, reading the TB test was the reason for my visit, and relieving the Animal Whisperer of some of his burden was the reason that I went.
In my flip-flops.
Well, now, don’t be so judgemental.
Why wouldn’t you go to the large animal vet with your two goats wearing your flip-flops? They are much more comfortable than any other kind of shoe in my City Girl opinion.
But: famous last words from the Animal Whisperer:
“You should wear some better shoes in case you need to get them out or something.”
He himself had told me that I wouldn’t even need to get the goats out of the back of the truck, that the vet would only need to come out to the truck to read the test.
But, I have learned over the years that the Animal Whisperer most always knows more than I do. He has street smarts. He has a sixth sense. He told me to wear other shoes.
So, instead, I brought other shoes. I can put them on if I need them.
I’m sure the vet will say: “Excuse me, ma’am, I know your husband told you to wear other shoes. Now is the time to put them on. One goat will jump out of the truck and land on your foot and you will have to climb in the back of the pooped-in and pee drenched back of the truck to grab the peed on leash of that same goat.”
But he didn’t.
Guess he thought I’d know that.
Or, he was having a good chuckle inside thinking, man, this girl has got a lot to learn. This oughtta be good.
Flash forward: Lilac jumps out of the truck. She must not have liked when the vet yanked her by her tail to show me where he reads the TB test.
I wouldn’t like anyone poking around at my caudal fold either. (Translation: Way to close to her poop hole for my comfort level.)
She made like Superman and flew out of the truck. Grab #2 on the pee soaked leash. If Animal Whisperer hadn’t thought to put a leash on her, I’d probably still be chasing her.
The receptionist had mentioned to me that the vet had just gotten out of the hospital after being in for 2 days. I don’t know why. He looks to be in his 60’s.
But, when it was time to lift Lilac back in, I figured, he’s a strong man, he’s the vet, he’ll lift her in.
Plus, I’m in flip-flops, duh.
However, after a quick glance at his hesitation to pick her up and recalling his recent hospital stay, I felt sorry for the guy.
“Want me to help?”
“Ya, you grab the back.”
My sort-of-a-Farm-Girl strong woman sense came back to me.
I grabbed the back. Under her stomach just in front of her back legs. Right smack in the pee and poop that was lurking there.
But, I’m a Farm Girl. I didn’t complain. I didn’t even say a word. I was tough, thanked him, then promptly went to the bathroom to wash off…my whole arm.
– The Goat Cheese Lady
P.S. Thank you, honey, for putting the leash on. And next time, I’ll PUT the shoes on. Promise.