Not strange as in Wes Anderson called, but strange as in I heard a horrible, terrifically loud, insane bellowing coming from next door. Like a man bellowing. In horrible pain or anger.
Shitfire!
So I went over there and I sort of knew it had to be a goat-situation in that goats sound way too human and I thought maybe one of them was giving birth, but no, that wasn't it.
Somehow, the largest goat had gotten her hoof caught in a branch. How this happened, I'm not exactly sure but I suppose she'd risen up on her hind legs to try and eat some green leaves and gotten her hoof caught in a little vee of the branch and when I found her, she was lying on her back, with that leg stretched up in the air, looking as if she was dead but then rousing herself to try and pull the hoof out which must have hurt like hell because that was when she bellowed. Every effort she made was just wedging that hoof in tighter.
The rest of the animals were freaked out, huddled up in a bunch on the other side of the pen and even the roosters weren't crowing. Not even Elvis in my yard. In fact, the chickens were refusing to come out of their house. It was a scary, scary sound.
What to do? What to do?
I had to get over the fence so I dragged over a tall chair from the garage and my weeding bucket and put that over the fence, climbed up on the chair, stepped over the fence onto the bucket and with my heart thudding I went to try and untrap the hoof.
That branch was way up there
and the goat's leg was stretched tight and the hoof was wedged in like nobody's business and for a moment, I thought I was going to have to go back and find something to cut it with. The branch, not the hoof.But, I tugged at it and it snapped (again, the branch, not the hoof) and the goat was free. She scrambled to her feet but I think that foot is probably broken.
Anyway, I got back over the fence and dragged the chair back to the garage and my heart is just about calmed down. I actually panicked! I did. My mouth went completely dry. It was like finding a human in a bad situation.
Here's the goat:
I called and left a message on my neighbor's answering machine, telling her what had happened. I'm sure that she and her husband are at work.
Mr. Moon came in just after I'd gotten back in the house and was having a second cup of coffee. He'd been down at the neighborhood auto shop with a car.
Then Jessie drove up. She's heading over to Gator Bone to pick up her mandolin from Lon who was fixing something on it. Here she is, talking to her daddy as he's leaving the yard.
This child is leaving me. In a few days. Really. I had convinced myself that it was two weeks before she was leaving but no, it's next week. The beginning of next week. And Mr. Moon and I will be going up there too. I'll be leaving the state! Oh, wait. I'm leaving the state today, too, to go to Thomasville with Kathleen but that hardly counts.
Jessie showed me a painting she did last night. She's taking it to Lis. LIS, DON'T LOOK!
"I was just trying to teach myself to paint," Jessie said."Where did you COME from?" I asked.
"From you," she said.
"I don't know how," I said.
We came in the house and I heated her up some of last night's nacho supper. Yes. I made nachos for supper. With leftover chicken and corn and black bean salad and chopped tomatoes and onions and jalapenos and not too much cheese.
"Yum," she said, carrying her bowl out to the car to eat on the way.
And now she's on the road and I'm here and Pearl's still alive and I've given her an aspirin and her breakfast and she's okay. I know we have to take care of her soon but it's going to take some time and planning and digging a deep grave and oh, babies. Life is so complicated sometimes.
Right this second I'm still a little terrified, remembering the way the goat sounded and knowing that I had to do something about it and I'm so proud of Jessie and I'm also so sad that she's leaving and I'm feeling like I need to help Pearl on but I know there's no need to rush. She's not in too much pain, at least as far as I can tell, she's eating, she spent a lot of time up yesterday, even trotting around the back yard.
I keep telling myself that it's going to be fine when she goes. FINE!
But who knows?
There's been an awful lot of emotion going on here lately and I suppose I will be fine and so will Mr. Moon and May and Hank and Lily and Jessie but again- shitfire!- that dog has been with us forever. And I'm not putting off her demise. Okay. Maybe I am. But just for practical reasons. See? I'm pragmatic. I'm practical. Gotta dig a grave. That's going to mean busting roots and that means Mr. Moon has to help and he has to take care of business today and I'm going to Thomasville and, and, and...
Obviously I have my panties all in wad. Everything's fine, including the goat. Especially the goat.
We'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming soon.
I promise.
Love...Ms. Moon
