Damnation and Gratitude

The outpouring of kindness expressed since I posted the story about Amethyst has lifted our family and given us strength these last few days. Thank you all for all the kind-hearted words, the prayers, the cyber hugs, the calls, texts and emails. Thank you Mare for reminding me that we will come out on other side of this loss with more love to give, more patience and more gratitude, just as we have done before. Thank you Doni for helping me in my search for a vet, and an emergency backup vet, proficient with goat care. Thank-you Tanya for always having room in your heart for us. Thank-you Ellian for letting me put you on speed dial. Thank-you mom, for crying with me, then crying again with me, and then again. Thank-you Diane for bringing Sophie her favorite red velvet cupcakes. And thank you Kathryn Belzer for your beautiful words of wisdom.

Cupcakes from Diane

Kathryn's email came this morning, thrown like a lifeline, or maybe like a kick in the pants, all the way from Canada.  I have never had the privilege of meeting Kathryn, but her daughter, Terry Lynn has been a favorite person of mine since we met a few years ago, and after getting a small glimpse of her mom this morning, I understand why Terry Lynn is just so wonderful. Terry Lynn and her husband T.J. live on a horse ranch in New Mexico. They have always shared their lives with many four-legged family members and are not strangers to the pain and loss that comes with doing so.

T.J. and Sapphire

The email thread started with T.J. sharing my blog with Terry Lynn. The subject line on T.J.'s email was "damn..." When it came back around to me from Kathryn, the subject line was changed to "damnation and gratitude" With Kathryn's permission I have included her email in its entirety:

Dear Kristy,

This note comes from Terry Lynn's mom.  I am here on our farm in Nova
Scotia; not forever, but for this one last harvest season.  The house
dogs are telling me that the horses are heading in across the pasture
to the barn.  Every morning the dogs act as if they need to sound the
alarm that strange, large animals are posing an unprecedented threat.
Until three or four weeks ago, there were a team of blacks and a team of greys.
There were four Percherons plus a nice little Canadian X Morgan riding
horse.  Last month we lost a black gelding to a knot in the bowel; it
was a matter of needing quick emergency bullet to the head to stop
fruitless suffering immediately; getting a tractor with a lift; opening
the gate to the woods; thanking Goodness for friends who help in
emergencies.  The urgent situation had no ambiguity and begged no
weighing of options.  We miss him.
Now Fall is in the air and we have to carefully consider the options
for one of the greys.  She was born here, the other grey is her son. 
While is past her working years, we begrudge her nothing in her last
chapter and would gladly keep her through the coming winter if she were healthy.
She has melanoma and lameness that mean she would have to have a box
stall and could die in the barn in the winter.  The clarity of the
former sad situation is a blessing compared to the weight of this
consideration for our sweet Alice mare.  We cannot avoid the practical
disadvantage of having to deal with a draft horse carcass in the frozen
winter.  If we have had to inject medications, or euthanize the animal,
the remains are a threat to the wild animals in the woods or in rescue
confinements.  We consider her carefully.
All of this is to say that animal husbandry is a rich and sometimes
intense experience of what life and death and the bits in between truly
is for humans.  We involve ourselves to the extent we can and are
blessed and challenged accordingly.  My compassion for your loss of
your goat companion and the hard lesson is enormous.  I will not say
that I am sorry, although there are tears as I type.  The humble
maturity that comes with doing one's best and still falling short of
the mark is a gift to you from your lovely little goat.  Carry it with
you as you go on from here, dear; this is what the rest of us do.
Sincere regards,

Kathryn


As I read Kathryn's email, I smiled warmly at the image of the diligent guard dogs (a chi-yorkie and daschund, as Terry Lynn informed me) and tears flowed for the loss of their gelding and for the difficult decision now placed in front of them. I pray that the right decision is made for sweet Alice mare and for the Belzer Family.

Kathryn has made the lessons of our experience with Amethyst clear.  We have made the choices to be "damned" to a life that involves animal husbandry, complete with the rich and intense experiences that come with that life. I am deeply grateful to be blessed and challenged with this life. I hope that I can carry on with a fraction of the strength, courage and compassion that is so apparent in Kathryn as she offers her words of wisdom.

Thank you for your gift Amethyst. I will keep it close as I carry on from here.

Bright flowers on a rainy day at our Farm