I know this isn't chicken related. But my goats are a special part of my little hobby farm. I just lost my beloved bottle baby (seven months old) to bloat last night.
Last night she got frothy bloat. Rushed her to an emergency vet an hour away. She got tubed, her rumen cleaned out, medicated. Got her home. Checked on her continually through the night. She went into shock and collapsed on one of the checks, screaming in pain because the bloating returned with a vengeance. I did CPR on her, the instant she stopped breathing. But I still lost her.
Now I have to tell the breeder that Dulce de Leche is dead. She entrusted me with her precious baby, and I failed. I had her from fourteen days old, and she was my special little girl.
I know I have to go on, for Yoko and Suzie, George and Artie, my remaining goaties. But I am crushed. Destroyed. It feels like when she drew her last breath a piece of my soul was torn out. I know with farm animals, stuff happens. But it still really hurts. My herd is so small, they're all special to me (I have no favorites, my 'favorite' whoever I am giving attention to at the moment). Especially because my goats act more like silly dogs with hooves.
We're taking the pen netting down here in a few weeks. 
Am really having a blast with the girls. I am NOT ready for winter!!!
) can't get to them. They won't be out there for a while yet but I hate digging for posts once the ground freezes.
