Posted by: kathandroger | March 24, 2019

Goodbye Moins Dix.

It has been a lovely week. The first swallow arrived outside yesterday, just as I was thinking about him. Eating my lunch of Bulots and Crevettes (Whelks and Shrimps), outside, I heard the unmistakable chattering of the lovely bird, and there he was above me on the telegraph wire. It always gives me a huge lift when the first swallow arrives, and his mates will soon be here too. Though why I assume it is a male bird I don’t know, it may be a fearless leading female, there are lots of those around here! And the cowslips are out in abundance, the chiffchaff is chiffchaffing in the woods, and the redstart is bobbing up and down on the rooftops. Spring has well and truly sprung here.

 

But it was all too good to last. Moins Dix the goat is no more. I really did not appreciate how much I loved the old bugger; he was always escaping or eating my clothes, and did endless damage to the young trees in the wood. And he was always a friendly old thing, and played with both our dogs over the years. His big horns never found their way into anybody, and he enjoyed us giving him a good old scratch on his back. Even our neighbour thought it fun when the goat arrived in his garden and began eating his flowers! His age is disputed, but he was already a mature chap when he came to us some eight years ago. He was probably about seventeen, a good age for a castrated male.

His collapse in the cave was a few weeks ago now, and having left him to die peacefully, after a couple of days survival it seemed to be the right thing to lift him up and revive him. It was probably a mistake, as over the last couple of weeks he has collapsed several times, but always seemed keen to eat and drink when I lifted him. He loved the breakfasts I brought him in the Intensive Care Unit I built, usually fresh spinach leaves or brussels sprouts plants, and even escaped once, only to be attacked by Hercules the ram and left flat out again.

So when he fell over yesterday I decided to leave him alone. As before, he showed no signs of imminent death, but his plaintive bleats seemed to be those of suffering. So what to do? A search of the old medical bag revealed some ampoules of now highly illegal Heroin and some Adrenaline. The diamorphine (Heroin) was way out of date, but there was enough to knock out a big adult. So there it was, the only solution. In tears, I shoved the injection into the old chap and bid him farewell. A coffee alone in the house (Kath away on holiday in Japan), and then to check the corpse half an hour later. Bloody animal was still alive. Doing all he could to remain the bugger he always was. But this really was the end, and he was now not apparently suffering; nor should he with oodles of morphine in his body.  So with heavy heart but with unwavering intent, he was wheeled to the grave I had dug weeks ago. He tumbled in and I cut his throat. I cried.IMG_1142

Bye bye Moins Dix.

 


Responses

  1. Oh, how sad! My condolences. Plant a big tree on him.

  2. Thanks Susan. I am going to make a metal goat sculpture instead!

  3. Thinking of you and poor old Moins Dix… two tough buggers!
    Only tough buggers admit to crying!

  4. Thanks Tim.

  5. How sad, all our friends disappear eventually one by one, human and otherwise, but knowing that makes the loss no easier.

    • But the lovely memories remain for ever!

  6. Very sad, but such a part of life and love. Memories will, as you say, remain for ever.


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