Saturday, February 09, 2008

Nine to One

I have 9 children. Sebastian. Tony. Elvis. Ann Margaret. Nugget. Dixie. Lucky. Peanut. Buster.

At any given time in my day, one of my children needs to be fed, loved or played with. Water needs to be changed. Stalls need to be mucked. Litter needs to be cleaned. Food dishes need to be refilled. Straw needs to be added. Hooves need to be cleaned. Attention needs to be lavished.

The responsibility has increased exponentially since we decided to bottle-feed and hand-raise Lucky ourselves. That's right - we've decided to keep her. Even as late as yesterday, I was thinking we'd give her away. I just didn't know how we could manage raising a newborn goat on top of everything else going on in our lives. But...we bonded and I am now Lucky's mama. I guess there's something about bottle-feeding a newborn, taking care of it, nurturing it, letting it nuzzle your neck after it feeds. How could I get rid of her now?

I feel a little bad that I have kept my distance from Peanut and Buster but with Lucky rubbing her little face all over me, I am afraid her scent is on me and I don't want to transfer it to them lest Ann-Margaret reject them too.

The last few days have been an emotional roller coaster. From the high of Ann-Margaret giving birth on Monday to the terror of watching her attack Lucky on Wednesday to the difficulty of trying to figure out what we were going to actually do Thursday and Friday - I am plum worn out. It's a week I never thought I would live but it's a week I would never wish to live without.

And if that ain't country, I'll kiss your...