Tears For Little Willie

Its one thing to have your heart ripped out of your chest, another when along with the pain of a broken heart you add regret.

The first call to the Vet reassured us that maybe Willie had a upset tummy or some indigestion. Keep up what you are doing and call me in the morning. So we rubbed and rubbed his belly. Set him up as comfortable as we could inside the house and thought all will be well in the morning.

At first I wrote it of to a broken thermometer, 93 degrees. A normal Goats temp is somewhere around 101-105, so I was looking for something higher that would indicate a fever or infection. A second thermometer Peg and Willie brought out confirmed, 93.7 degrees.

Another call to the Vet, and I wanted to hear, “bring him in and we will fix him up”. But when I mentioned 93.7, he stopped me and told me, Willie is going to die.

I tried my best to maintain my composure, but he could hear the cracking in my voice. He told me I could bring him in and they would try this and that or we could bring him to Tufts University were they are far more advanced when caring for goats. I know he was only trying to give me some hope for that split second, so I gathered up my strength and asked, is he going to die? “Yes he is."

It is easier to save a goat with a fever or high temp, but a goat with a low body temp is dying, his body is shutting down and death is near.

I could not do it! I could not load Willie into the back of my car and drive 30 minutes to the Vet to have him euthanized. I could not handle the thought of him dying alone in the back of my car.

So I lay down next to Willie, told him I was so sorry and put my hand on him and waited.

I, and I alone should have done better for Willie. I should have noticed sooner or done something different. How else can you explain the death of such a wonderful little creature?

How many times does a ten year old need to have her heart broken when she is told something she loves has died?

Jordan was in charge of bottle-feeding Willie when he was a small baby, and she would rise up early in the morning and feed her baby boy. We all took turns feeding him, but he was Jordan’s baby.

I dug Willie’s grave out next to Jordan’s beloved Charlie her first kitten that had Feline Leukemia when we adopted him. Next to Cracker the kitten Jordan rescued from the pound that was hit by a car and crawled home to die. Near Jeanne’s dog Ginger and my cat Keek.

I wanted the easy way out, I wanted to bury Willie before Jordan came home from school, but both Jeanne and Aunt Peg said, “No, Jordan needs to be able to say goodbye.”
So Jordan, Tommy, Jeanne and myself gathered at Willie’s grave to say goodbye to one of Gods creatures who brought joy to our home and pain to our hearts.




Goodbye Little Willie