Blood, Pain, Love

Thursday didn't go as I had planned. 

Not that I had had BIG plans for the day. 

It was the first day of Easter break for the kids. 

They were to spend the night with grandma and grandpa Wednesday night. 

At ten, I would pick them up. 

The mall would be our destination where I would proceed to spend my birthday money on some new pants and hopefully a black swimsuit top. 

We would then meet cousins at our favorite pizza place for lunch. 

Then head home where I would put some poultry in the crockpot for lime chicken tacos that we would consume for dinner. 

It didn't happen. 

Wednesday.

11:37 pm. 

My lovely deep slumber was obliterated by the overhead light coming on and the shifting of the bed as my husband sat on the edge putting his socks on. 

"Didn't you hear the phone ringing?"

"Umm, why would I hear the phone ringing?  I'm sleeping."

"Well, your mom has been calling. Gigi is throwing up, has an earache, and wants to come home."

Crikey...I wanted to go to the mall tomorrow. 

He left and I rolled back over trying to sleep for two more minutes. 

Because my parents only live two minutes away. 

Before I could snooze off they had returned. 

She seemed fine in the morning, but definitely had the look of a virus about her. 

No mall. 

No lunch with cousins. 

So, I decided to make a banana cake with the overripe fruit that was staring at me from the counter. 

Gigi sat on the couch watching movies while I fetched her stuff. 

Around lunchtime I headed to the barnyard. 

The water trough was getting low and the rain we had been promised by the local weatherman hadn't come. 

So I needed to pull the hose out to it and fill it up. 

The goats were in a very playful mood.

Racing through the stall. 

Head butting one another. 

As I sat and watched the water level rise in the big drinking bowl, I saw the blood. 

Blood on Tulip's head. 

Blood on Yogurt's head. 

Her horn!

What had happened to Tulip's horn?

Our unicorn was broken.

Somehow, in her playful romp with her sister, Tulip had broken off her horn. 

The only horn she had. 

She and her sister were de-horned as babies, but one of hers grew back. 

Our unicorn was now just a goat.  

I called the vet.  

Told them the situation and they said bring her in. 

Part of her horn was still attached so it was dangling from her head. 

And a bloody stump was showing. 

I managed to get the rest of the horn off. 

I had called both my dad and husband to come help with her. 

My dad got ahold of her and I pulled it off. 

It was hollow. 

It was as if I had tore my fingernail off and the bloody underlay was present. 

That's what was happening to Tulip. 

Buttercup was very curious about what was going on. 

At first she was looking into the barn with her entire head over the Dutch door. 

But she soon became nervous. 

And only peered in. 

We had transported the other goat to our vet once when she was younger. 

Usually the vet comes to us. 

Our farm vet is 30 minutes away and we were going to try to get Tulip to them.

In our dog crate. 

That we hoped she would fit into. 

That we hoped she would go into. 

So instead of a leisurely day of shopping and lunch, my husband and I were loading a bloody goat in a dog crate into the back of the minivan.

She was a good goat all the way there.

Upon getting out of the crate in the large animal room of the clinic, she became nervous. 

And the blood began to spurt out of her head. 

And Gigi started to cry.

Zoe walked to the window to look out at the gravel parking lot. 

The vet and her assistant got the bleeding under control. 

Bandaged up her head and gave her two injections. 

One for pain and an antibiotic. 

At this point Tulip was exhausted and done with everything. 

She let out a few horrible loud screams which made Gigi cry again. 

They suggested we separate Tulip from Buttercup and Yogurt for a few days. 

They were afraid they would bother her bandage, try to eat it off. 

Gigi wanted McDonalds.  

So, with a goat in the back of the car we headed to those nasty golden arches. 

There goes my taco dinner. 

When we got Tulip back to the barn, her sister and friend steered clear from her.  

She looked funny. 

She smelled funny. 

No one was going to eat that bandage off. 

Separation wouldn't be necessary. 

Our goats are our pets.

We don't milk them or plan to eat them. 

Their sole purpose has been to be companions for our pony. 

A pony who came to our home because a girl with cancer wished for her. 

So, if one is sick or hurt we treat them with compassion and help with their pain.

And on Thursday that meant forgoing my trip to get new clothes and instead hauling a goat 30 minutes away to get her injured head treated. 

Because this goat means a lot to us. 

She was brought here to help heal our daughter. 

Gigi is feeling better. 

I'll go to the mall tomorrow.