THAT'S A GOAT? PT. 3    

Battered fence posts aside, the trip home was uneventful, and when I introduced Sage to my sister, she was just as amazed as I was by how minuscule this three- day old goat was. She made my Rat Terrier, Casey, look positively enormous when they stood side by side. When Sage attempted to take a step, it was with spindly legs that weren’t particularly interested in holding her and, new mother that I was, I worried that perhaps something was wrong. 

     Soon after, it was time for Sage’s first feeding, and I dutifully and lovingly measured out and warmed a bottle of whole cow’s milk. Upon presenting it to her, she didn’t seem to know what to do as she had become used to nursing from a medicine dropper. So, while I held Sage on my lap, my sister squeezed a bit of the milk onto Sage’s lips and once she tasted the creamy goodness that came out of the red nipple, she was nursing contentedly. Afterward, I placed my new baby into the storage bin I had prepared, and she immediately laid down and went to sleep.

     This became my new normal. Every four hours I would give Sage a bottle. At the age of 54, I was introduced to late night feedings, replete with cries if Sage awakened first and wanted to eat. When she would finish a meal, I would then set her on the puppy puddle pads I had laid out in the kitchen and I

would cry, “Go potty! Go potty!” unless it was late night, in which case I would egg her on in a stage whisper of sorts. When Sage would relieve herself, I would cheer and carry on as though she had just produced something worthy of The Louvre rather than the loo.                                                            

     A week later, after she had spent most of her time sleeping in her storage bin turned crib, it occurred to me that not only might Sage appreciate spending a little time walking about, but, that it also might be a good idea. She would need to exercise her legs if they were going to strengthen. So, I began leaving her out of her crib for a duration of time after her feedings and she began to grow steadier on her feet.

     I was pleased with myself. Despite having never raised a goat this small before, I seemed to know what I was doing. Huh! Maybe this was all just so much common sense.

     Once Sage got her legs firmly beneath her, she was all over the house and it wasn’t long before she was trotting and turning corkscrews, her tiny hooves clacking against the laminate floors like little tap shoes. I was completely enthralled by this tiny creature who viewed me as her mommy, but I wasn’t the only one.      

Even though we were in a pandemic, I continued to sell “farm fresh” eggs to a variety of customers who would wear masks and stay six feet away while we did business. All of them were charmed by Sage who seemed to think that these people she would greet at the door had come solely to see her. More than once, a customer would arrive and immediately ask, “Where’s Sage?” if they didn’t see her right away, making me wonder if perhaps, Sage might have been correct in her assessment.