For the first couple weeks of his sickness he had a severe case of diarrhea. Most of us get over that in a couple days you know, but poor Spencer didn't. It just kept getting worse and worse and worse. Finally, the goat mother put him on some medication. First, the triumphant pepto-bismol...that wasn't successful. Then some electrolytes...nothing. Then some antibacterial stuff that goes in his water - that didn't work either. By now, he had lost tons of weight and had become very weak. His eating abilities also grew weaker, almost to the point of not being able to even chew. Our goat mother tried and tried with all of her might, but hark! Nothing was going to trample this sickness - this disease he had consequently obtained against his will. And then on October 3rd, our goat mother found him that afternoon not able to stand, walk, and barely eat. He was dieing - and she knew it. But there was nothing that could be done, except make him comfortable and give him all the love she could to make his last moments happy.
With the night coming on quickly and the cold air flowing in the atmosphere, our goat mother knew she had to leave and tell him his last farewell. But before she could do this, she had to find a way to get him inside the goat house, so he could be warm with the others. He couldn't walk. So, with tears streaming down her eyes, and asking the Lord to give her the strength to carry him, she wrapped Spencer into her cold arms and carried him to his house. Setting him down gently, she hugged him and talked to him between sobs. She had to go. Her heart told her he would be dead by morning...so she told him her last farewell. Her last words of love. Hugging him with tears flowing down her face, she rose and looked at him for the last time...and then she was gone. He was gone by morning, just as she thought.
This story makes me want to burst out in tears, even though goats can't cry - but on behalf of our goat mother, here is the last farewell to the beloved and special Spencer.
