She's due the 4th of June.
She's tired and uncomfortable. She sat down, stood up, sat down all day. Her back end is all puffy. Her udder is HUGE. She has had tummy trouble because there are FEET in her rumen. Go figure. I can actually see them move across her side and land-POW-right in the wrong spot. That hasn't helped at all.
And to add insult to injury, she's in lockdown in the kidding pen in the garage-barn until she gives birth.
During the day she can roam and hang out in the goatyard. At night, I need her close, so I can hear. Minerva has CAE, remember, so I have to pull her babies after she has them. This is not something I look forward to or will relish doing, but it should be done for the sake of the babies. We'll see how it works out. Either way, I need to be there to make sure she's a-ok.
So she's in lockdown. But she was SO lonely last night, I couldn't leave her lonely. So I brought in her second in command, her trusty lieutenant, Lilly.
|"Um, hello? It's ME!"|
Who is a picture hog.
Tonight, the same thing. They are in together. You'd think that would make them happy, or at least resigned to the same old same old, but no. After they were put in the pen with all the nice clean hay and the cold water bucket and a little alfalfa and beet pulp they complained. It went like this.
Translation: Hey bellhop. Where's the mint on the pillow??
Translation: Why isn't there Pay Per View??
Then finally, when that was not working:
MAAAA! MAAAAA! MA-A-A-A-A-A!!
Translation: I have a herd to run, you know!!!
Translation: Why do you hate us? We are so nice. Why do you lock us away, alone, and forgotten? Why, Bad Lady, why???
|Minerva makes her sad face, which coincidentally looks just like her "give me more grain" face. |
She's a chameleon, she truly is.
It is very, very sad. It truly is.
We are in the countdown. Soon, my friends, I think soon.