Chat
07-21-2024, 05:12 PM
Thanks Dragonmaker and Saph. It's been a hard week. We did not expect to lose this guy at such a relatively young age when he's always been so strong and healthy. I realized that his recent vet visits were the first in his life. Finn never had to see a vet except to get his CVI's for leaving the state, and he always passed those with flying colors. He was looking thin and weak at the Rendy but he still had enough spark to get into mischief and hassle the other goats on our hike. It feels crazy that we had to put him down just three weeks later. Counting my blessings, I'm glad he didn't seem to suffer. He just stopped eating and faded away, but he never behaved as though he were in pain. He became very, very weak to the point where we knew it was just a matter of time. Life no longer brought him joy, and even bringing up the little bit of cud he produced seemed to sap all of his strength, but he didn't act like an animal in pain.
I'm also grateful that we were able to say goodbye, and we made a few wonderful memories toward the end. We went to the Rendy, which really chirked Finn up for as long as it lasted. Then we took Finn and Pongo to the July 4th celebration in Cuchara and walked them in the parade. Finn ate plenty of candy and got loads of affection from everybody. We know he had a grand time that day even though he was also very tired. I took him to the vet in Pueblo on July 9th. He seemed on death's door the night before so I brought out a horse blanket and some extra straw and I spent the night with him in the shed in case it was his last. I rushed him to Pueblo next morning, and I was afraid the ride would be very hard on him in his weakened condition, but despite the heat Finn seemed to really enjoy the ride. He perked up considerably and his eyes, which had begun to sink the night before, filled back out. He ate several carrots, some french fries, and picked grass and weeds at a park that day. Next morning I took him with me to the saddle club arena while I taught riding lessons. There are two younger kids in the family who don't ride and they spent the hour picking weeds and grass and flowers and hand-feeding them to Finn. He lapped up the attention.
Finally, on Friday morning Phil and I took Finn to the Rye Park, which is a large, quiet wooded area. I set up my hammock and Phil got out his chair and we read books and hung out with Finn near the creek all day. We stayed for six hours. Finn spent a lot of time with his head in one of our laps. We knew that if he didn't eat anything that day, what with all the lush bushes, trees, weeds, wild roses, and other delectables, then it was hopeless and we would have to let him go. The only thing he ate was a granola bar, and he didn't quite finish it. He acted like he really wanted to eat it but it didn't taste good to him any more. He reminded me of my dad near the end of his battle with cancer. Dad wanted to eat, but he had no appetite and any food he tried to choke down tasted terrible. When the appetite disappears and every kind of food tastes bad, it's often a sign that the body is ready to cash in. We saw the writing on the wall but letting go is so hard. We will always cherish the memory of that last wonderful day in the park where it was just me and Phil and Finn.
I'm also grateful that we were able to say goodbye, and we made a few wonderful memories toward the end. We went to the Rendy, which really chirked Finn up for as long as it lasted. Then we took Finn and Pongo to the July 4th celebration in Cuchara and walked them in the parade. Finn ate plenty of candy and got loads of affection from everybody. We know he had a grand time that day even though he was also very tired. I took him to the vet in Pueblo on July 9th. He seemed on death's door the night before so I brought out a horse blanket and some extra straw and I spent the night with him in the shed in case it was his last. I rushed him to Pueblo next morning, and I was afraid the ride would be very hard on him in his weakened condition, but despite the heat Finn seemed to really enjoy the ride. He perked up considerably and his eyes, which had begun to sink the night before, filled back out. He ate several carrots, some french fries, and picked grass and weeds at a park that day. Next morning I took him with me to the saddle club arena while I taught riding lessons. There are two younger kids in the family who don't ride and they spent the hour picking weeds and grass and flowers and hand-feeding them to Finn. He lapped up the attention.
Finally, on Friday morning Phil and I took Finn to the Rye Park, which is a large, quiet wooded area. I set up my hammock and Phil got out his chair and we read books and hung out with Finn near the creek all day. We stayed for six hours. Finn spent a lot of time with his head in one of our laps. We knew that if he didn't eat anything that day, what with all the lush bushes, trees, weeds, wild roses, and other delectables, then it was hopeless and we would have to let him go. The only thing he ate was a granola bar, and he didn't quite finish it. He acted like he really wanted to eat it but it didn't taste good to him any more. He reminded me of my dad near the end of his battle with cancer. Dad wanted to eat, but he had no appetite and any food he tried to choke down tasted terrible. When the appetite disappears and every kind of food tastes bad, it's often a sign that the body is ready to cash in. We saw the writing on the wall but letting go is so hard. We will always cherish the memory of that last wonderful day in the park where it was just me and Phil and Finn.