This past week I was been traveling for business. I am a bit of a homebody and never like to be away from home for too long. However, this trip I was away Monday - Friday. Unfortunately, while I was away I got one of THOSE calls from my husband. You know THOSE calls; you can tell the minute the person calling says hello that something is wrong.
Me: "Hey, sorry I was in a meeting. You called, what's up?"
Jesse: LONG PAUSE
I know it is nothing serious with the baby since I would have been persistently called or texted if it was a true emergency, but I know from the pause that something has happened to one of the animals.
Me: "What's happened?"
Jesse: "Belvedere passed last night. I am sorry."
Belvedere, my last remaining goat, left us just a little over a month after his lifelong companion Petunia. This is a loss I was not prepared for. I had just accepted the barn without the familiar loud protests of Petunia, I am not ready to not be greeted by Belvs as well.
Belvedere the most affectionate of the goats, always wanting scratched and pet. When we would go on walks he would spend his time next to me begging for affection. He liked beer from the can and pine needles from the tree. A few years ago his horn grew back towards his scalp and needed to be removed by the vet. The most cost effective thing for me to do was drive Belvedere in my CAR in the BACKSEAT 20 minutes to the vet. I rolled the window down for him and so he could hang his head out the window like a dog, the other drivers were quite shocked to drive past us that day!
Besides Petunia Belvedere was closest with Elton. They spent many a night sleeping together and many a day snuggling.
Losing Belvedere brings to close an era of the time we had with our three goats. Now all that remains are memories of the joy and sometimes frustration that they brought us.
May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields. And until we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of his hand. ~Irish Blessing
The seaman tells stories of winds, the ploughman of