back problem, with one of her hind legs shorter than the other.
“There’s nothing really we can do for her legs and back,” the vet said. “You just give her good food and all this space to wander in and hopefully it rights itself over time.”
Gauging Mary to be an elderly goat, the vet suggested a diet of Bermuda hay (the usual goat diet) with a little alfalfa hay each day to supplement (for extra calories and minerals). Oat straw would serve as the best bedding, he said, since the straw fibers were tube-shaped and would hold heat. As soon as Dr. Geissen left, I made a trip with Jesse to the local feed store to buy bales of hay and straw. I scattered some hay out for Mary, and she happily began to munch. Then I pulled clumps of straw from the bale and shook it out over the floor of one of the stalls in the barn, fluffing it up so it would be nice and soft. After two minutes of this, the air was filled with straw dust, making me sneeze over and over. For the rest of the day and night I kept finding straw fibers in my hair, in my ears, and even in my underwear.
The next day I made calls to report the petting zoo. It wasn’t enough to save one animal. I wanted that place to fly right or be shut down.
“We have a file three feet high,” the guy at Animal Control said. “We’re working on it.”
The SPCA said pretty much the same thing.
Satisfied that the zoo was being taken care of, I settled in with my new goat, focusing on getting her healthy. To boost her immune system, I began her on a supplement of algae superfood. I had discovered this superfood a year and a half before when my dog China seemed to be on her last legs—incontinent, losing her fur, riddled with arthritis,and barely able to see because of cataracts. I had lamented about China’s decline to a friend, who had suggested I give her the algae. With nothing to lose, I gave it a shot, and within three months China’s cataracts were gone, her fur had grown back, she had stopped peeing on herself, and she was hiking five miles a day with me. This miracle cure was now a staple in all of my dogs’ and cats’ diets, as well as in my family’s. Because it was an all-natural food, it could be fed—like any greens—to any animal. Now it was Mary’s turn to reap the benefits of the miracle algae.
On one of my feed-store runs to buy Mary more hay, I also learned about grain mash—a mix of bran, oats, corn, barley, alfalfa, molasses, and a little water—that would add minerals and calories to Mary’s diet and give her just a little extra plumpness. This was how I liked all my rescued animals to be. That
just a little extra
told everyone involved—especially the animal herself—that now she was living the good life. Now there was plenty and she’d never want for anything.
In the first few days after I’d brought Mary home, I brushed the mats out of her hair. Once her leg had healed, I washed her filthy coat, revealing that she was indeed white, not gray. With all the great supplementation, before long her coat grew in soft and shiny.
Although Scott was a little surprised that I’d actually won out in the goat standoff, he took it all more or less in stride. Mary wasn’t in the house, after all, and he rarely went out into the backyard since he got home so late from work. Scott’s and Mary’s lives didn’t often intersect.
One morning I sat in the yard with Jesse and watched Mary meandering through the dappled sunlight. Three months had passed since I’d brought her home, and Mary had reached a new level of vitality. She moved with ease. Her eyes shone. And she had attained the perfection of
a little bit extra
.
Wow
, I thought.
I did that
. Somehow I had forgotten just how goodI was at nurturing animals back to health. But there before me, in the form of a happy, healthy goat, was proof that my gift was alive and well.
I ran inside and got my camera and took several pictures of Mary in my yard. I needed to show the owner of the
“There’s nothing really we can do for her legs and back,” the vet said. “You just give her good food and all this space to wander in and hopefully it rights itself over time.”
Gauging Mary to be an elderly goat, the vet suggested a diet of Bermuda hay (the usual goat diet) with a little alfalfa hay each day to supplement (for extra calories and minerals). Oat straw would serve as the best bedding, he said, since the straw fibers were tube-shaped and would hold heat. As soon as Dr. Geissen left, I made a trip with Jesse to the local feed store to buy bales of hay and straw. I scattered some hay out for Mary, and she happily began to munch. Then I pulled clumps of straw from the bale and shook it out over the floor of one of the stalls in the barn, fluffing it up so it would be nice and soft. After two minutes of this, the air was filled with straw dust, making me sneeze over and over. For the rest of the day and night I kept finding straw fibers in my hair, in my ears, and even in my underwear.
The next day I made calls to report the petting zoo. It wasn’t enough to save one animal. I wanted that place to fly right or be shut down.
“We have a file three feet high,” the guy at Animal Control said. “We’re working on it.”
The SPCA said pretty much the same thing.
Satisfied that the zoo was being taken care of, I settled in with my new goat, focusing on getting her healthy. To boost her immune system, I began her on a supplement of algae superfood. I had discovered this superfood a year and a half before when my dog China seemed to be on her last legs—incontinent, losing her fur, riddled with arthritis,and barely able to see because of cataracts. I had lamented about China’s decline to a friend, who had suggested I give her the algae. With nothing to lose, I gave it a shot, and within three months China’s cataracts were gone, her fur had grown back, she had stopped peeing on herself, and she was hiking five miles a day with me. This miracle cure was now a staple in all of my dogs’ and cats’ diets, as well as in my family’s. Because it was an all-natural food, it could be fed—like any greens—to any animal. Now it was Mary’s turn to reap the benefits of the miracle algae.
On one of my feed-store runs to buy Mary more hay, I also learned about grain mash—a mix of bran, oats, corn, barley, alfalfa, molasses, and a little water—that would add minerals and calories to Mary’s diet and give her just a little extra plumpness. This was how I liked all my rescued animals to be. That
just a little extra
told everyone involved—especially the animal herself—that now she was living the good life. Now there was plenty and she’d never want for anything.
In the first few days after I’d brought Mary home, I brushed the mats out of her hair. Once her leg had healed, I washed her filthy coat, revealing that she was indeed white, not gray. With all the great supplementation, before long her coat grew in soft and shiny.
Although Scott was a little surprised that I’d actually won out in the goat standoff, he took it all more or less in stride. Mary wasn’t in the house, after all, and he rarely went out into the backyard since he got home so late from work. Scott’s and Mary’s lives didn’t often intersect.
One morning I sat in the yard with Jesse and watched Mary meandering through the dappled sunlight. Three months had passed since I’d brought her home, and Mary had reached a new level of vitality. She moved with ease. Her eyes shone. And she had attained the perfection of
a little bit extra
.
Wow
, I thought.
I did that
. Somehow I had forgotten just how goodI was at nurturing animals back to health. But there before me, in the form of a happy, healthy goat, was proof that my gift was alive and well.
I ran inside and got my camera and took several pictures of Mary in my yard. I needed to show the owner of the
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