The Immortal Goat

“Goodbye Teaspoon” I said as I tried to hold back my tears.

She won’t die right?

“I love you Teaspy” Elia wasn’t holding any of her emotions back. The red heat lamp was shining on her face making her look and odd shade of red. I was lying in my old sweatshirt and boots next to Teaspoon on one end of the small rectangular barn as Elia gave her a big hug. Lying on a pile of hay was my miniature Nubian goat. Her brown and white fur was bald  in some places and because of bad dehorning one horn was shorter than the other. She was like a goat version of a wiener dog, with short legs and a long body. At five years of age she was getting kind of weak. Nonetheless the thought of not hearing her shriek bleat in the morning was extremely painful. Teaspoon was our baby, the one that would come up to us, the one that was bullied by the other goats.

My mom pulled Elia and I into a hug and told us that we had done everything that we could. Elia was being as dramatic as ever.

“What will I do without Teaspoon!” Elia exclaimed dramatically

We walked out of the barn and stepped onto the muddy ground. My foot sank a little into the mud. I could smell an overwhelming scent of manure. My dad was shining the flashlight at the ground in front of us.Through the cracks in the walls of the barn we could see the red heat lamp.

“Maybe teaspoon won’t die.” my mom said hopefully as Elia cried in her arms. As I solemnly walked back into the house I thought of the past three days. Two days before Teaspoon was lying on the ground unable to get up. I remembered how we tried to put a sweatshirt on her to keep her warm. It turns out that goats can't walk in a sweatshirt very easily. To this day the sweatshirt is still on the ground where we took it off to save Teaspoon from perpetually tripping on her own feet.

The previous day Diane Dishner, a goat breeder in the area, told us that we needed to get a special medicine and deworm her. Throughout the day we took turns feeding her molasses water through a syringe. Considering I was ten and very attached to my animals I am surprised I didn’t cry as much as I thought I would. Despite our care throughout the day she didn’t seem to be getting any better.

As I went to bed that night my head was filled with terrifying thoughts of what we would find in the morning. Though the window I could see the other goats yellow rectangular eyes. I remember that as I drifted off to sleep I thought I hope teaspoon doesn’t die.
In the morning I heard my mom say to Elia “Teaspoon is still alive!” Both Elia and I shot out of bed like a rocket going to the moon. After we got our boots on we went to the barn to see her.

“s” Elia pointed out as we walked to the barn.

“If Teaspoon dies can we have a funeral? We can invite everyone.” Elia kept going. As a attention seeking fourth grader, she wouldn’t let a minute go by without somehow bringing her misfortunes into the conversation.

“I don’t care Elia!” I said because I was sick of her whining. Thinking back I could see how this was uncalled for but Elia always seemed ruffle the wrong metaphorical feathers.

We talked with Teaspoon until it was time to go to school.

“See you later, Teaspy” I said as I left the barn

I heard Elia’s muffled voice say from the barn “See you later.”

When I got home from school I went outside to see Teaspoon. I sat and talked with her, which is a big deal  because the ground had poop all over it. Ironically we had just finished building the barn and Teaspoon, being the goat that she is, pooped all over it. Anyways it didn’t look like she was doing better and I was getting more worried as the day went on. Over dinner that night we talked about putting her down because she was so old. We threw this idea out the window hoping that it wouldn’t come to that. That night we said goodbye to Teaspoon again.

“Bye bye Teaspy” I said as I gave her a hug around the neck. Everyone else said their goodbyes and went inside for another worrisome night.
In the morning we found that Teaspoon was okay and looked significantly better. After school that day I did my homework in the barn. I thought about Teaspoon’s failing health. She had balds spots and was beginning to look like an anorexic model. I reminisced about the the trips to the beach where we put surfboard leashes on the goats and took them for a walk. I remembered the previous fair where she was the center of attention.
The next day Teaspoon was still sick but she was holding on. Over the next few days we said goodbye to her at least once more. A year later Teaspoon was healthier than before and and every
morning when I went out to feed the animals I heard her shrieking bleat saying that she was happy to see me.