There were certainly times when he wished that he could go back to being just "Melvin". Things were much simpler back when he was younger. According to his mother's accounts, he was named after his father, which would technically have made him Melvin Jr, but he didn't mind the fact that most people didn't know that. Maybe it would have been different if he had known his dad, but he had no memory of him at all, not even fleeting ones. When he was very young, his mother would tell him that he looked just like his father, but strangely this included both before and after he grew his horns. When his hair was short, he looked like his dad, but the same was true when his hair was long. Sometimes, Melvin wondered if his mother had really known his father or if it was a one night stand or something more tawdry.
In any case, Melvin had always been a "mama's boy" growing up. He lived with his mom in a small dusty stall that she rented from one of the local farmers. It wasn't much but it kept the rain out, unless you made the mistake of sleeping in the north east corner, and even the minimal straw was better than the cold ground when it came time to sleep. It was a little small, probably six feet by four feet, but at least it had a yard. In the spring time, they even had a view of some grass off in the distance. Legend was that there used to be grass in their stall, but that was years ago if at all. The neighborhood was okay too, although it could be a little loud. It must have been a pretty sprawling housing area, because when he looked left and right, he could see other goats in their little yards. Occasionally he could hear his mother talking to them but he couldn't make out what they were saying. It was almost like it was a different goat dialect and she would never answer his questions about those conversations.
Melvin often wondered how his mom made the money for rent. When he woke up, she was often gone and the time of her return varied. The best that he could glean was that she worked for the farmer in some capacity. He wished that she would teach him more about her job so that he would have a skill of his own, but she would always find a way to change the topic and since she was normally tired, he didn't press her on it.
Melvin loved his mom. She had always tried so hard to take care of him and more than anything else, it was the memory of her face that he clung to when the hardships associated with his multiple personalities threaten to destroy him. He wished he knew where she was and how she was doing. The last time he had seen her was when he was only three (Author's note: Goats calculate their age in month's and not years as this forces them to focus more on life's passage).
(To be continued)
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
The Horned Avenger: Chapter 1
The arid wooden planks of the cell seemed to be closing in on him a little more every minute as he sat in the corner wondering what he was going to do next. Being in isolation was really beginning to cramp his style and mess with his routine. As his ears perked to scan the sounds all around him, he felt his first sense of calm. The only noises were the skittering of rats in the walls. It sounded like Monica may have had another litter of pups and she was running back to their distant squeaks along the rafters. He could tell it was her because of her distinct gait. It hadn't been that long ago that they had first met when she was being assaulted by a cat and he had intervened. She would carry her battle scars the rest of her life, but she had made it back to her family that night and every night thereafter, at least so far.
None of them knew that he was the Horned Avenger. That secret had to be maintained. It would be far too dangerous if anyone knew. Coco, his on-again-off-again lady love, had come close to catching him coming in late from one of his many adventures, but he had played it off masterfully by distracting her with some special mix that he just happened to be holding. For almost two years now, he had inhabited this complex web and he had to admit that it was exhausting work.
The caregivers, of course, knew none of this. To them he was just Melvin. His meek persona was a perfect foil to them finding out what was really going on. No one would ever suspect sweet little old Melvin with his slow strut and sleepy eyes. They would never dream that he walked the way he did because of the custom "sub-fur" holsters that he had strapped to each hip or that his sleepy eyes were the result of his nightly vigils. No, lucky for Melvin, the caretakers were too absorbed in the barn cleaning to see what was really happening.
That was the problem. Without easy access to the full barn area, it wasn't possible for him to make his constant patrols. Sure, he could get out if he needed to, but then his secret may be revealed. That would be disastrous. There were way too many souls who depended on him, even if they didn't realize it.
As he thought about his conundrum, he stifled a brief chuckle. Superman had it easy. He had only two alter egos; Superman and Clark Kent. It was the same with Batman and all the others. But, here in his world, the real world, it was far more complicated. He didn't have their Kryptonian bloodline and he wasn't born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. In order to fund the heroic exploits of the Horned Avenger, Melvin had to create a third alter ego; the Goatfather. The Goatfather was the main man in the Sheep and Goat Barn, the Original Gangster, who made his fortune in the black market. If you needed a fix of Top Goat or a little extra forage pellets, he was the one to go to. Every sheep and goat knew this, even the geriatrics since it is hard to keep secrets on the Farm. 
None of them knew that he was the Horned Avenger. That secret had to be maintained. It would be far too dangerous if anyone knew. Coco, his on-again-off-again lady love, had come close to catching him coming in late from one of his many adventures, but he had played it off masterfully by distracting her with some special mix that he just happened to be holding. For almost two years now, he had inhabited this complex web and he had to admit that it was exhausting work.
The caregivers, of course, knew none of this. To them he was just Melvin. His meek persona was a perfect foil to them finding out what was really going on. No one would ever suspect sweet little old Melvin with his slow strut and sleepy eyes. They would never dream that he walked the way he did because of the custom "sub-fur" holsters that he had strapped to each hip or that his sleepy eyes were the result of his nightly vigils. No, lucky for Melvin, the caretakers were too absorbed in the barn cleaning to see what was really happening.
That's not to say that there hadn't been any close calls. In the last few months, his skirmishes had left him with some major injuries. He had to draw on all of his drama and counter-intelligence training in order to convincingly play those off as "accidents". It was hard for the humans to believe that even goofy old Melvin could be that clumsy.
(To Be Continued...)
Sunday, October 2, 2011
The Pariah Gambit
It was only supposed to be a short stop off on the way home to pick up some groceries, but things never quite go as smoothly as you would like. After walking past the item you were looking for three times, one of the employees pointed out where it was. Maybe it was just your internal monologue taking over, but you could swear that there had been a smug gleam in her eye when she pointed to it. Maybe she had watched you walking back and forth and thought that this was her chance to show her superiority. Then, just like always, you found yourself in the slowest moving of all the lines. "Express my ass", you said under your breath as you moved to the next line just in time for the cashier to place a lane closed sign on the conveyor. The only other open lane beckoned to you since you couldn't exactly reverse course having invested yourself in your initial misfortune. "Price check", said the third cashier, and you resolved yourself to another loss.
Having finally paid for your one item, you walk out to the parking lot. Bucking the recent trend, at least you remember where you parked. As you approach your car, you see a tall thin young man standing behind your car. His clothing is somewhat retro chic, but even from a distance it appears a little musty. You can almost taste it, but the word for the smell eludes you. You expect that he will dismiss himself as you get closer but he does not. You click your unlock button on your remote expecting that the chirp will break him out of his apparent trance, but it fails to do so. As you get within ten feet, he speaks in a somewhat smarmy and exotic accent. "Nice bumper sticker". "Oh, thanks", you say, now more than ever hoping that this interlude is coming to an end. "Do you really want it?" he asks. Well, at least now you know which bumper sticker he is talking about. He has apparently been eyeing your "World Peace" sticker. "Sure, who doesn't", you reply as you reach for your door handle. "If what you say is true, I have a proposition for you", he says, and you find yourself reaching for his outstretched hand despite all of the objections of your conscious brain.
As soon as your flesh makes contact with his cold skin, your reality melts away and you find yourself in the "dream sequence" so prevalent in the media. The colors aren't quite right and there is a general haziness around the edges. You try to look around, but it is clear that there is a particular scene that you are meant to observe. In front of you, in what appears to be a deserted park, you see a picnic table. The ground around it is scattered with what appears to be leaves, but these are all green and not the typical fall bouquet, Across the table from each other, you can see two figures. The first is instantly familiar as your new "friend" from the parking lot, but the second is not known to you. He has a paternal appearance and is evidently the older of the two. You ponder whether he is your host's father, but then your attention is drawn to their conversation.
"God, it feels like we have been playing forever", says the younger man. You hadn't noticed this before, but his words suddenly make you aware that there is a chess match in progress between the two. The older man seems to reflect on the comment, but says nothing in reply. Slowly, your vantage point begins to shift. Soon, you are no longer watching from the sidelines, but instead you are seeing the scene from behind the eyes of the younger man. As he speaks his next words, you have the weird sensation that these foreign words are coming out of your detached mouth. "It is clear that I have the advantage, but I am tiring of the game." "Your" gaze is drawn to the board where you see that there are indeed more black pieces than white. Across the table, you see your opponents weathered face more clearly now as he seemingly acknowledges this imbalance without looking down at the board. You can see in his eyes the acute awareness of his losses. Even the best chess masters lose pieces, both pawns and greater pieces, through deliberate sacrifices and errors, but there is a pain in his visage that transcends that. He looks as if he is about to speak when you hear the next words from inches below your line of sight.
"I have a proposition for you". Having just heard these words yourself in the parking lot, you are starting to wonder if your new acquaintance is a car salesman or a greasy politician, but he continues. "I am willing to cede the game to you if there is one among your creation who will take my deal". The older man shifts his gaze from the table to your eyes and you can see that he too is tired of the game and there is an apparent opening for this concept. When he speaks, his voice has a somewhat unnatural, but not unnerving timbre. "And what is this deal of which you speak?"
The younger man goes on to layout the deal.
Unending world peace will be granted if but one person, hereby referred to as the pariah, will accept the following conditions:
In a stomach wrenching transition, you find yourself suddenly back in the parking lot with a slight itching sensation all over your body. Your hand is no longer clenched in the strong handshake, but the man is still standing in front of you. He explains that he and God had agreed to some additional terms and that he had been required to offer the deal to ten people as a test of humanity's progress. You are, in fact, the tenth and final person to be asked, the previous nine having declined the deal. You are advised not to make any rash immediate decision, but instead to take the rest of the day to think it over and to meet back in this parking lot in twenty four hours. With that, you part company and spend the next twenty three and a half hours in alternating incredulity, denial, and sober thought.
Do you take the deal? If not, you can stop reading here and skip to the part in red text at the end. If you do take the deal, you show up in the parking lot the next day as directed. You even park in the same spot. By now your commitment is such that you wouldn't want to screw it up by not explicitly following directions.
The Devil arrives right on time. For all of his reputed faults, he is at least prompt. He seems sincerely surprised to see you there and is taken aback at first. Once he has gotten within customary speaking range he asks whether you are sure that this is what you want to do. "Yes", you say and he takes your hand as if to seal the deal - except something else happens.
Suddenly you are back in the deserted park looking out through the Devil's eyes. God is speaking now in his sombre voice. "I have faith in the innate goodness of my creation. While free will has allowed for many flaws and contagious outbreaks of immorality, they are basically good when faced with grave situations." He clears his throat and the table shakes violently. "Besides, the faithful would recognize that their eternal reward for such a sacrifice would far outweigh the finite suffering that would be inflicted upon them."
"Yes", says the Devil, apparently having anticipated this response. "That does seem to stack the odds in your favor, if such a person does indeed exist. Why don't we up the ante."
While the suffering of the pariah is guaranteed on Earth, his eternal disposition will be determined by the flip of a coin:
In either case, if the pariah accepts the deal, all other humans that have ever lived will have a heavenly eternity in the company of friends and loved ones (Including pets) and none will have to suffer eternal damnation.
The next twenty four hours seems a lot longer than the first and this forces you to imagine the concept of eternity. You cannot really wrap your mind around this. Do you accept the deal? If you don't please skip to the section in red at the bottom of the story. If you do accept, you find yourself back in the same parking lot the following day.
As you mill about in the minutes before your meeting, you wonder if the parking lot cams are picking any of this up. You wonder what security must be thinking as they see you and this stranger in the same spot for three consecutive days. You find yourself suddenly self conscious. Maybe they don't see the stranger and just figure that you are a crazy person with an outstretched hand who likes to talk to himself. You are suddenly snapped out of this when the Devil arrives. He seems even more surprised to see you today. He reaches out to take your hand but today it seems like more of a formal greeting than "sealing the deal".
It takes a couple seconds of hand to hand contact before you are back in the park. It is apparent that you are picking up exactly where you left off yesterday. You look down as you/the Devil take a coin from your pocket. You spin it to show that it is a normal coin and not a trick. The coin is flipped with a high trajectory and lands on the back of the Devil's hand with a smack that sounds like a rifle shock. You want to squint your eyes, but the Devil never squints and you see what he sees. It has landed on tails.
Do you still take the bargain?
One of the things that I enjoy about my job is the time that it gives me to think. The other day I was reflecting on the concept of selflessness. I like to think of myself as generous and kind and I would aspire to be selfless as well. In order to aspire to it, I felt the need to really define it. Dictionary.com defines selflessness as "having little or no concern for oneself especially with regard to fame, position, money, etc.; unselfish". This was a little too abstract for me to wrap my head around, hence the "Pariah Gambit". As it progresses, it transcends some of the ways that we may traditionally view this and ends in true selflessness. Anyone who takes the full bargain would truly be able to give everything for others without expecting any karmic rewards. I guess I have a long way to go!
Having finally paid for your one item, you walk out to the parking lot. Bucking the recent trend, at least you remember where you parked. As you approach your car, you see a tall thin young man standing behind your car. His clothing is somewhat retro chic, but even from a distance it appears a little musty. You can almost taste it, but the word for the smell eludes you. You expect that he will dismiss himself as you get closer but he does not. You click your unlock button on your remote expecting that the chirp will break him out of his apparent trance, but it fails to do so. As you get within ten feet, he speaks in a somewhat smarmy and exotic accent. "Nice bumper sticker". "Oh, thanks", you say, now more than ever hoping that this interlude is coming to an end. "Do you really want it?" he asks. Well, at least now you know which bumper sticker he is talking about. He has apparently been eyeing your "World Peace" sticker. "Sure, who doesn't", you reply as you reach for your door handle. "If what you say is true, I have a proposition for you", he says, and you find yourself reaching for his outstretched hand despite all of the objections of your conscious brain.
As soon as your flesh makes contact with his cold skin, your reality melts away and you find yourself in the "dream sequence" so prevalent in the media. The colors aren't quite right and there is a general haziness around the edges. You try to look around, but it is clear that there is a particular scene that you are meant to observe. In front of you, in what appears to be a deserted park, you see a picnic table. The ground around it is scattered with what appears to be leaves, but these are all green and not the typical fall bouquet, Across the table from each other, you can see two figures. The first is instantly familiar as your new "friend" from the parking lot, but the second is not known to you. He has a paternal appearance and is evidently the older of the two. You ponder whether he is your host's father, but then your attention is drawn to their conversation.
"God, it feels like we have been playing forever", says the younger man. You hadn't noticed this before, but his words suddenly make you aware that there is a chess match in progress between the two. The older man seems to reflect on the comment, but says nothing in reply. Slowly, your vantage point begins to shift. Soon, you are no longer watching from the sidelines, but instead you are seeing the scene from behind the eyes of the younger man. As he speaks his next words, you have the weird sensation that these foreign words are coming out of your detached mouth. "It is clear that I have the advantage, but I am tiring of the game." "Your" gaze is drawn to the board where you see that there are indeed more black pieces than white. Across the table, you see your opponents weathered face more clearly now as he seemingly acknowledges this imbalance without looking down at the board. You can see in his eyes the acute awareness of his losses. Even the best chess masters lose pieces, both pawns and greater pieces, through deliberate sacrifices and errors, but there is a pain in his visage that transcends that. He looks as if he is about to speak when you hear the next words from inches below your line of sight.
"I have a proposition for you". Having just heard these words yourself in the parking lot, you are starting to wonder if your new acquaintance is a car salesman or a greasy politician, but he continues. "I am willing to cede the game to you if there is one among your creation who will take my deal". The older man shifts his gaze from the table to your eyes and you can see that he too is tired of the game and there is an apparent opening for this concept. When he speaks, his voice has a somewhat unnatural, but not unnerving timbre. "And what is this deal of which you speak?"
The younger man goes on to layout the deal.
Unending world peace will be granted if but one person, hereby referred to as the pariah, will accept the following conditions:
- The world's new unity will be founded on their disdain for the pariah. He or she will immediately find themselves the object of the population's residual hatred. All relatives and loved ones will immediately turn on them and they will never hear another kind word or feel love from another person for the rest of their lives.
- The pariah cannot take any medications or drug which will dull the effects of his condition.
- The pariah will live to at least ninety five years of age and his or her life cannot be shortened by the pariah's own hand.
- As long as the pariah works diligently, they will be able to afford the necessities, but they will live a pauper's life for the rest of their years.
- The world will never know of the pariah's sacrifice on their behalf and he/she can never speak of it (Who would believe them if they did).
- Once accepted, the deal is unbreakable.
In a stomach wrenching transition, you find yourself suddenly back in the parking lot with a slight itching sensation all over your body. Your hand is no longer clenched in the strong handshake, but the man is still standing in front of you. He explains that he and God had agreed to some additional terms and that he had been required to offer the deal to ten people as a test of humanity's progress. You are, in fact, the tenth and final person to be asked, the previous nine having declined the deal. You are advised not to make any rash immediate decision, but instead to take the rest of the day to think it over and to meet back in this parking lot in twenty four hours. With that, you part company and spend the next twenty three and a half hours in alternating incredulity, denial, and sober thought.
Do you take the deal? If not, you can stop reading here and skip to the part in red text at the end. If you do take the deal, you show up in the parking lot the next day as directed. You even park in the same spot. By now your commitment is such that you wouldn't want to screw it up by not explicitly following directions.
The Devil arrives right on time. For all of his reputed faults, he is at least prompt. He seems sincerely surprised to see you there and is taken aback at first. Once he has gotten within customary speaking range he asks whether you are sure that this is what you want to do. "Yes", you say and he takes your hand as if to seal the deal - except something else happens.
Suddenly you are back in the deserted park looking out through the Devil's eyes. God is speaking now in his sombre voice. "I have faith in the innate goodness of my creation. While free will has allowed for many flaws and contagious outbreaks of immorality, they are basically good when faced with grave situations." He clears his throat and the table shakes violently. "Besides, the faithful would recognize that their eternal reward for such a sacrifice would far outweigh the finite suffering that would be inflicted upon them."
"Yes", says the Devil, apparently having anticipated this response. "That does seem to stack the odds in your favor, if such a person does indeed exist. Why don't we up the ante."
While the suffering of the pariah is guaranteed on Earth, his eternal disposition will be determined by the flip of a coin:
In either case, if the pariah accepts the deal, all other humans that have ever lived will have a heavenly eternity in the company of friends and loved ones (Including pets) and none will have to suffer eternal damnation.
- If it is heads, the pariah will know rewards without measure and will be like unto a god him or herself.
- If it is tails, the pariah will spend all eternity invisible, watching the happiness of others but without the ability to interact or participate. In order to ensure that this suffering never ends, all memory of the pariah will be stricken even from the mind of God.
The next twenty four hours seems a lot longer than the first and this forces you to imagine the concept of eternity. You cannot really wrap your mind around this. Do you accept the deal? If you don't please skip to the section in red at the bottom of the story. If you do accept, you find yourself back in the same parking lot the following day.
As you mill about in the minutes before your meeting, you wonder if the parking lot cams are picking any of this up. You wonder what security must be thinking as they see you and this stranger in the same spot for three consecutive days. You find yourself suddenly self conscious. Maybe they don't see the stranger and just figure that you are a crazy person with an outstretched hand who likes to talk to himself. You are suddenly snapped out of this when the Devil arrives. He seems even more surprised to see you today. He reaches out to take your hand but today it seems like more of a formal greeting than "sealing the deal".
It takes a couple seconds of hand to hand contact before you are back in the park. It is apparent that you are picking up exactly where you left off yesterday. You look down as you/the Devil take a coin from your pocket. You spin it to show that it is a normal coin and not a trick. The coin is flipped with a high trajectory and lands on the back of the Devil's hand with a smack that sounds like a rifle shock. You want to squint your eyes, but the Devil never squints and you see what he sees. It has landed on tails.
Do you still take the bargain?
One of the things that I enjoy about my job is the time that it gives me to think. The other day I was reflecting on the concept of selflessness. I like to think of myself as generous and kind and I would aspire to be selfless as well. In order to aspire to it, I felt the need to really define it. Dictionary.com defines selflessness as "having little or no concern for oneself especially with regard to fame, position, money, etc.; unselfish". This was a little too abstract for me to wrap my head around, hence the "Pariah Gambit". As it progresses, it transcends some of the ways that we may traditionally view this and ends in true selflessness. Anyone who takes the full bargain would truly be able to give everything for others without expecting any karmic rewards. I guess I have a long way to go!
Monday, September 26, 2011
Introducing Miss July
If I had to be reincarnated as an animal, I am pretty sure that I would want to be a goat. I can't put my finger on what it is, but I find them irresistible in spirit and joie de vivre. Nowhere is this more evident than in July. However, this wasn't always the case.
July arrived at the Farm in questionable condition. She takes her name from the month in which she was rescued from a horrible fate of neglect prior to an even more horrible fate of being eaten. With all the work to be done at the Farm, I have to admit that I didn't take much notice of July or her pygmy goat friends who arrived with her at first. In fact, it wasn't until something was obviously wrong with July that I began to spend one-on-one time with her. Since no one knew her exact history, the fact that she started to have difficulty walking presented a bit of a mystery. Over time, it became apparent that her issues went beyond arthritis and were probably neurological due to the nature of her gait. Soon, she couldn't even stand anymore and it was time for urgent action. I will always remember trying to visit with her the day before her trip to UC Davis. She was in the north stall of the Turkey Barn and as I entered she tried to get up. Her attempts became frantic and my heart went out to this little creature who seemed to be losing her will to live.
When she arrived at UC Davis they began treatment for an abscess near her spine, but the outlook was cautious. While it seemed that this was likely the cause of her rear leg lameness, it was unknown whether the damage could be reversed or whether it was permanent. She stayed at UC Davis for monitoring for several days before she came back to us. Every day I checked the medical update board for any news, but none of it was particularly good.
After returning, July was moved to live with the geriatric sheep in the hopes that they would keep her company. She began a regimen of physical therapy involving both assisted walking and range of motion, but as time passed, it seemed like her quality of life was declining. She would roll onto her right side and not be able to right herself and she wasn't showing any signs of improved strength in her rear legs. A decision on what was best for her was looming and her demeanor did not bode well.
It was on the afternoon of Friday, July 29th that I was able to make a joyful entry in July's physical therapy log. While I was walking her around with her rear legs held up, I could feel that she was trying to move them. The movement was devoid of coordination, but it was movement and a positive change in her condition. Suddenly things began to change dramatically. By the end of the weekend, more care givers were reporting the same experience. July had not given up on herself and we were going to be in it to win it.
In the days and weeks to come the PT log is filled with entries detailing her remarkable progress. The writers' happiness practically jumps of the page and there are several instances of emoticons and smiley faces. Soon July was standing on her own for brief periods, showing the ability to hold her weight. We set about converting a cart for her in order to allow her to get around on her own. I joked with fellow care givers that as soon as I finished with it, she probably wouldn't need it anymore - and I was right. She only used it in its finished form once for a test fitting. After that, she proved not to need it anymore. As much as I liked the cart (Including the bumper sticker which seemed perfect for a goat with horns), for once I was glad to have my work be in vain.
She still needed help to get up, but once she was standing, she could take some tentative steps. By now I was spending my free time at lunch and on breaks with her and started bringing treats such as grapes. I used these to entice her to walk forward and found that she was able to make more progress. My time combined with the countless hours spent by the other care givers and interns was showing remarkable results.
This was an amazing time for me. My first connection at Farm Sanctuary had been with Coco the goat who went through a rough recuperation. I had marvelled at the dedication of the organization to her recovery. I had visited her along the way and marked her progress, but I had not really been involved in making the miracle happen. Here, with July, I was really part of the team that was doing it.
It was a few weeks ago when it happened. I was cleaning July's bed in her stall when I caught a glimpse of something in the doorway. It was immediately familiar as July's face. Although I had left her on her bed outside after her PT, she had evidently gotten up on her own and come to visit me in the barn. My emotions felt electric and when Leanne showed up at the other door, I was so excited to tell her. As I did so, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I had what could only be referred to as a deja vu
I have not mentioned this before because I do not want in anyway to overshadow the tireless efforts of the human care givers who worked so hard on July's recovery. Without this, she probably wouldn't be with us today. However, whenever I hear people refer to July as the "Miracle Goat", I feel the need to give thanks and to acknowledge that I believe that the nickname couldn't be more accurate.
July's miracle is still playing out and she continues to set new personal milestones. She is able to get around all by herself and she can even play the classic goat game of "head-butting". Perhaps most importantly, she has shown that she can smile and that makes it all worth it!
July arrived at the Farm in questionable condition. She takes her name from the month in which she was rescued from a horrible fate of neglect prior to an even more horrible fate of being eaten. With all the work to be done at the Farm, I have to admit that I didn't take much notice of July or her pygmy goat friends who arrived with her at first. In fact, it wasn't until something was obviously wrong with July that I began to spend one-on-one time with her. Since no one knew her exact history, the fact that she started to have difficulty walking presented a bit of a mystery. Over time, it became apparent that her issues went beyond arthritis and were probably neurological due to the nature of her gait. Soon, she couldn't even stand anymore and it was time for urgent action. I will always remember trying to visit with her the day before her trip to UC Davis. She was in the north stall of the Turkey Barn and as I entered she tried to get up. Her attempts became frantic and my heart went out to this little creature who seemed to be losing her will to live.
When she arrived at UC Davis they began treatment for an abscess near her spine, but the outlook was cautious. While it seemed that this was likely the cause of her rear leg lameness, it was unknown whether the damage could be reversed or whether it was permanent. She stayed at UC Davis for monitoring for several days before she came back to us. Every day I checked the medical update board for any news, but none of it was particularly good.
After returning, July was moved to live with the geriatric sheep in the hopes that they would keep her company. She began a regimen of physical therapy involving both assisted walking and range of motion, but as time passed, it seemed like her quality of life was declining. She would roll onto her right side and not be able to right herself and she wasn't showing any signs of improved strength in her rear legs. A decision on what was best for her was looming and her demeanor did not bode well.
It was on the afternoon of Friday, July 29th that I was able to make a joyful entry in July's physical therapy log. While I was walking her around with her rear legs held up, I could feel that she was trying to move them. The movement was devoid of coordination, but it was movement and a positive change in her condition. Suddenly things began to change dramatically. By the end of the weekend, more care givers were reporting the same experience. July had not given up on herself and we were going to be in it to win it.
In the days and weeks to come the PT log is filled with entries detailing her remarkable progress. The writers' happiness practically jumps of the page and there are several instances of emoticons and smiley faces. Soon July was standing on her own for brief periods, showing the ability to hold her weight. We set about converting a cart for her in order to allow her to get around on her own. I joked with fellow care givers that as soon as I finished with it, she probably wouldn't need it anymore - and I was right. She only used it in its finished form once for a test fitting. After that, she proved not to need it anymore. As much as I liked the cart (Including the bumper sticker which seemed perfect for a goat with horns), for once I was glad to have my work be in vain.
This was an amazing time for me. My first connection at Farm Sanctuary had been with Coco the goat who went through a rough recuperation. I had marvelled at the dedication of the organization to her recovery. I had visited her along the way and marked her progress, but I had not really been involved in making the miracle happen. Here, with July, I was really part of the team that was doing it.
It was a few weeks ago when it happened. I was cleaning July's bed in her stall when I caught a glimpse of something in the doorway. It was immediately familiar as July's face. Although I had left her on her bed outside after her PT, she had evidently gotten up on her own and come to visit me in the barn. My emotions felt electric and when Leanne showed up at the other door, I was so excited to tell her. As I did so, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I had what could only be referred to as a deja vu
I have not mentioned this before because I do not want in anyway to overshadow the tireless efforts of the human care givers who worked so hard on July's recovery. Without this, she probably wouldn't be with us today. However, whenever I hear people refer to July as the "Miracle Goat", I feel the need to give thanks and to acknowledge that I believe that the nickname couldn't be more accurate.
July's miracle is still playing out and she continues to set new personal milestones. She is able to get around all by herself and she can even play the classic goat game of "head-butting". Perhaps most importantly, she has shown that she can smile and that makes it all worth it!
Meet Madeline
In my opinion, there are very few things in the world that could match the cuteness of a baby goat. They are the perfect combination of size, curiosity, and vivacity. Madeline was my first experience with a kid (baby goat) and she will always be special to me.
She arrived on the Farm the first month that I was working there and for a long time I found myself spending every break and every lunch sitting with her. With her curled up in my lap sleeping or frolicking around me, or on some days climbing me, nothing else mattered. No worldly care could crack through that shell of bliss. I didn't even mind when she was going through her "hair nibbling" phase.
With all baby animals with unknown histories, there is always a risk of getting attached to them. In Madeline's case, her incoming prognosis had been pretty bleak indeed. When I first saw her, I was expecting a pathetic little animal that had given up based on what we had heard, but that was never the case with her. While Madeline undoubtedly benefited from the medication that she was provided during her recovery, I have to believe that she benefited from the love she received as well; not just from me, but from everyone who ever met her. With that love in her corner, she became indomitable. The memories of those hours spent with her will never leave me. They served to reaffirm that I had made the right decision in coming here and put any lingering doubts to rest for good.
It has been almost exactly five months since I first met Madeline and I am happy to say that she is doing well with little evidence of her early struggles. Her little horn buds have blossomed into real horns that she unfortunately seems to love sharpening. She loves her strawberries and grapes and gets feisty sometimes if you scratch her butt. When the mood hits her, she likes to rear up and headbutt my hand, but her tail wagging belies her tough girl swagger. She will always be my "baby goat" even as she pulls away and finds that she had more in common with her small herd of Noel and Justin with whom she is spending time before being introduced to the other goats. I will miss both her excited bleats when she sees me and her sad bleats when I have to leave, but it will be a testament to the hard work of the staff when she has this opportunity to grow up (And someday soon she may grow into those ears of hers).
With all baby animals with unknown histories, there is always a risk of getting attached to them. In Madeline's case, her incoming prognosis had been pretty bleak indeed. When I first saw her, I was expecting a pathetic little animal that had given up based on what we had heard, but that was never the case with her. While Madeline undoubtedly benefited from the medication that she was provided during her recovery, I have to believe that she benefited from the love she received as well; not just from me, but from everyone who ever met her. With that love in her corner, she became indomitable. The memories of those hours spent with her will never leave me. They served to reaffirm that I had made the right decision in coming here and put any lingering doubts to rest for good.
It has been almost exactly five months since I first met Madeline and I am happy to say that she is doing well with little evidence of her early struggles. Her little horn buds have blossomed into real horns that she unfortunately seems to love sharpening. She loves her strawberries and grapes and gets feisty sometimes if you scratch her butt. When the mood hits her, she likes to rear up and headbutt my hand, but her tail wagging belies her tough girl swagger. She will always be my "baby goat" even as she pulls away and finds that she had more in common with her small herd of Noel and Justin with whom she is spending time before being introduced to the other goats. I will miss both her excited bleats when she sees me and her sad bleats when I have to leave, but it will be a testament to the hard work of the staff when she has this opportunity to grow up (And someday soon she may grow into those ears of hers).
Sunday, September 25, 2011
A Lesson from Linus
Since my last post was about pig barn cleaning, I figured it would be appropriate to share a related tale here, this time about a recent experience I had with Linus, another one of Farm Sanctuary's fine pig gentlemen.
Having finished cleaning the Rescue Barn, I was driving the tractor to the Pig Barn for the daily cleaning. Since the pigs understand that the sound of the tractor in the morning is the prelude to the wake-up call, it is not uncommon to see a couple pigs heading down to the pond of their own accord (This is a beautiful sight when you see it because it means less effort to clear the barn). On this day, however, Linus was making a march from the pond to the barn. I called out to him that he was going the wrong way, but he would not be dissuaded. He seemed to be a pig on a mission.
When I got to the Pig Barn, I dismounted the tractor and walked inside. Linus walked right over to me and brushed against me as I was arranging my cleaning implements. The sudden cold I felt on my side and legs informed me that I was suddenly quite muddy from our encounter. I didn't really need to look down to confirm this, but I did just as Linus was walking away and heading back out of the barn.
I will never know what Linus's objective was, but this seemed to be a deliberate act. Faced with the need to interpret it, I have chosen to believe the following. Since I spend a lot of time with the pigs making them do things that they would prefer not to do, like leaving the barn so I can clean, I try to give them treats and spend time with them to make up for it and keep our relationships in balance. The previous day, I had shared a banana with Linus by the pond in the afternoon. I like to believe that Linus was doing some sharing in return, using the only commodity he had which was the mud he had been rolling in and which he clearly liked. Viewed that way, it was a kind gesture.
Everyday, if not every hour, we are faced with a world which bombards us with similar messages where we may not always know the motives. Faced with the choice, it is all to easy to assign negative intonations to them and assume that the world and its inhabitants are crueler than they actually are. A whole other world opens up to us if we choose to view these ambiguous situations in a different light and assume the best rather than the worse. I had actually been studying this concept and it was great to see my mind starting to apply it. I know it makes me feel better and more at one with things. How about you?
Having finished cleaning the Rescue Barn, I was driving the tractor to the Pig Barn for the daily cleaning. Since the pigs understand that the sound of the tractor in the morning is the prelude to the wake-up call, it is not uncommon to see a couple pigs heading down to the pond of their own accord (This is a beautiful sight when you see it because it means less effort to clear the barn). On this day, however, Linus was making a march from the pond to the barn. I called out to him that he was going the wrong way, but he would not be dissuaded. He seemed to be a pig on a mission.
I will never know what Linus's objective was, but this seemed to be a deliberate act. Faced with the need to interpret it, I have chosen to believe the following. Since I spend a lot of time with the pigs making them do things that they would prefer not to do, like leaving the barn so I can clean, I try to give them treats and spend time with them to make up for it and keep our relationships in balance. The previous day, I had shared a banana with Linus by the pond in the afternoon. I like to believe that Linus was doing some sharing in return, using the only commodity he had which was the mud he had been rolling in and which he clearly liked. Viewed that way, it was a kind gesture.
Everyday, if not every hour, we are faced with a world which bombards us with similar messages where we may not always know the motives. Faced with the choice, it is all to easy to assign negative intonations to them and assume that the world and its inhabitants are crueler than they actually are. A whole other world opens up to us if we choose to view these ambiguous situations in a different light and assume the best rather than the worse. I had actually been studying this concept and it was great to see my mind starting to apply it. I know it makes me feel better and more at one with things. How about you?
An Unstoppable Force and an Immovable Object
Since my last several posts have been more about philosophical things, I feel like it is time to kick off a series of animal related posts since I suspect that that is what anyone who visits this is looking for. I also love to write them, but I want to make sure to share the character of my animal friends as I do so and this takes time to learn.
Meet Cesak. He is a wonderful pig and over the past few months has become one of my favorites.
Meet Cesak. He is a wonderful pig and over the past few months has become one of my favorites.
He lives with 12 other pigs in the Pig Barn and I find him to be quite exceptional. He has this wonderful curly hair which makes him easy to spot and really beautiful eyes. His eyes are particularly striking and I would challenge anyone to gaze into them and try to tell me that there is nothing going on behind them.
So, what does any of this have to do with the title of this post? Well, I am getting to that. One of my frequent jobs at Farm Sanctuary is to clean the Pig Barn. This is actually part of the daily ritual and in order to do it, there can't be any pigs inside. In my experience, there are three things that pigs love more than anything in the world: 1) Food, 2) Sleep, and 3) A nice warm nest in which to do #2 (Sleep, that is, they prefer to do their "dirty business" outside). When you consider that none of the above preferences involve a morning wake-up call and a march down to the pond, you can begin to imagine what fun it can be to be the deliverer of said wake-up call. The procedure for escorting the pigs down to the pond generally involves some loud talking and the use of "pig boards" (Red plastic boards that are used to guide the pigs and as a barrier between them and you). The walk from the barn to the pond gate is about thirty yards, give or take.
In every group, there has to be a challenge and in the past couple months, Cesak has stepped up to fill the role. He does not want to get up, or leave the barn, or walk to the pond and he loudly protests for the entire duration of the mandatory process. Add to that the fact that Cesak is probably in the five-hundred pound range (I am guessing on this, but being conservative) and you can easily start to see the visual of the "immovable object".
Part of my job is to be the "unstoppable force". As I previously mentioned, I think the world of Cesak but in our daily struggle it is imperative that I win every time. Pigs are very smart and if I let him stay in his bed one day or try to lure him down to the pond with a treat, he will expect this everyday and the wake-up call will be more difficult for me and each of my co-workers. While my victory is important, I also try to look at this from Cesak's perspective. In his mind, I expect that I am violating two of the most basic laws of pig behavior: 1) The loudest pigs generally gets his/her way and 2) If that fails, the biggest strongest pig always wins. Cesak is much louder, bigger, and stronger than me, and yet I fail to yield. This must be quite perplexing.
To an unseasoned observer, I am sure that this exercise would look quite amusing as our battle of wills plays out everyday. It may even seem scary to someone who is not accustomed to the sounds that pigs make when they are not getting their way (To say that they are vocal would be a huge understatement) and hears the squeals, growls, and bellows for the first time. What is especially notable is that Cesak never tries to hurt me. I am positive that Cesak knows that he could do so. He has the edge on me in many areas, but it never becomes that type of battle. I like to believe that he understands at some level what this is all about, but that it is a game that we play. We both want to win, but only the unstoppable force can.
Every day as I watch Cesak walk through the pond gate, I congratulate him everyday on his game play and let him know that I look forward to tomorrow's match. At this point, we are still friends and I give him a hug or a good back scratch. See you tomorrow Cesak, same time, same place!
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