A goat got me in trouble.

Do you remember that, technically, I probably should have sold the two wethers (castrated males) I purchased last year as an experiment to see if I even liked goats?  That was Pig-farmer’s plan, anyway.

Then, when someone decided to buy the two young males that were born in February, Pig-farmer relented and said I could keep them as long as the pasture held up.  Well, lo and behold, the pasture has been lush and green A-L-L summer.

Here we are in our second week of September and we have avoided that long drive to the sale barn.

One day I noticed a limping, gimpy goat.  Still happy.  Still eating.  Just limping.  It was one of my boys.  Uh-oh, I said.  Let’s hope you get better …. on your own.  I looked his foot over and didn’t see anything bleeding or an obvious injury.  Even a gimpy goat is surprisingly agile though and I didn’t get a great look.

Next day?  No improvement.  Maybe even worse.  Sigh.  I told Pig-farmer that “we” had a problem.  He held the goat, while I did a thorough inspection and found the puncture wound.  Drat, drat, drat.

I got “the look.”  First from Pig-farmer.  The one that said, “Now we have a vet bill for a goat that should have been sold already.”  Then, from Tim the goat.  The one that said, “I don’t want to go to the doctor’s …”

Then, his injury betrayed him and made him revert to his tripod-stance:

Away we went.  He had an abscess that needed opened and an antibiotic shot.

Plus, I needed to keep him out of mud and dirt for a few days … and soak his sore foot in Epsom Salts.

Hello.

Ever soak a goat’s foot in Epsom Salts?  I had treated his twin’s injuries from 16 months ago similarly.  However, that was also probably 120 pounds ago, too.  The goat.  Not me.

The trailer became my “sick pen” because Pig-farmer and his pigs have taken over my former sick pen.  I decided soaking a toddler’s foot would be easier.  With a toddler, you just have to say, “Whatever you do, do NOT stick your foot in this bucket” and WHAM-O, they will find a way to sit in the bucket, foot and all.  Not so a goat.

After a couple of spills and curses, we developed our routine.  I think he even looked forward to it.

Of course, he might have been looking forward to the sugar-laced cereal I fed him to get him to hold still long enough for me to place his foot in the bucket and keep him there for a nice soak.

Tonight, he skipped behind me back to the pasture,  all four feet working well.

I think his happy little face is worth a little ol’ vet bill.

Don’t you?