In May of 2011, my cousins gave me one of their five week old Boer goats. I decided to call her Willow.
Because she was so young, she decided that I was her mother. So, when she was out of her pen and I got out of her sight, she would frantically search for me and cry really loud.
She would sit on my lap,
ride with me on the golf cart
and even serve as my welding assistant.
She became, well…..a second dog.
On the next to last day of 2011, Willow stood on a barrel that she had rolled to the edge of her yard, and jumped over the fence… which would have been fine had she not caught her foot in the wire. Joel’s mama discovered her walking around eating grass with the bottom part of her back leg dangling.
Pretty nasty huh?
So, we rushed her to the vet expecting them to amputate, or even worse, suggest that she be put down. The vet who did orthopedic work with the large animals was not there, so we had to leave her and would not know anything until the next morning.
After the orthopedic vet examined her, he said that he would really like to try to save her leg, but it would be a challenge and a process.
To begin with, he put her leg in a cast, which she pulled off the first night. Then he tried a splint.
After nine weeks with her leg in a splint, (Not the same one, oh no, she got a new one every week.) she was as good as new.
The vet called her a miracle goat.
I guess you could say that she came out smelling like a rose. Speaking of Rose…
This spring, I brought home a friend for Willow.
Her name is Rose. Rose was about 12 weeks old when I got her, so she hasn’t bought into the idea of me being her mother.
She’s very sweet and goes on walks with us, but is still a little skittish. She’s not the sit in your lap kind of goat…but as we know, miracles do happen.