Caprine Classics Dairy Goats

She screamed again.  The Saanen kid thrashed wildly on her side in the sick pen.  Rasping, strangled sounds came from her open mouth.  Her terrified eyes rolled back into her head.  With immense effort, she curled her legs beneath her body and attempted to stand, resulting only in another crash of her small head against the unforgiving barn wall.  Helplessly, I stood by the pen and watched the animal in her convulsions.  My face twisted slightly in agony as I watched my prized kid suffer.  As she relaxed slightly and laid her head back on the straw, I turned to re-check the milk machine on one of the milking does.  I glanced back at the little doe, who lay back panting from her exertion and pain and fear.
Suddenly, the rasping peaked again.  More strangled sounds burst through the stiff, hot air.  I whirled around on my milking stool.  The young doe screamed and convulsed violently.  By now, her lips were a frightening shade of blue and her discolored tongue was lolling out of her mouth.  The seizures didn’t stop this time.  On and on they came, racking the small body of that innocent doeling.  In panic, I switched off the milk machine.  Springing over the sick pen gate, I landed beside the Saanen and knelt by her side.  I threw my arms around her, not knowing what else to do.  Everything I could think of had already been tried.  Vaguely, I knew that my brother had left the water hose and had jumped over the gate behind me.   Somewhere in my consciousness, I was aware that my mother was making frantic phone calls to the veterinarian.  But it was too late.  As the final death throes set in upon my doe, I could do nothing more to help her.  I pulled the kid into my lap and held her as her eyes rolled back a final time and she threw back her head in one last struggle.  Her body trembled slightly.  Then she was ominously still.
My brother and I lifted the limp body and started to carry it out of the pen.  A few reflexive gasps came from the doe, and we set her down in the hopes of reviving her.  But it was reflex only.  She was gone.
In utter defeat, I knelt over the body on the ground outside the barn.  Had it only been the day before that I had admired her gracefulness and correctness?  Slowly, dejectedly, I let my gaze fall to the face of my favorite doe kid.  I took in the ruffled hair, the blue mouth, the wide-opened, unseeing eyes.  Then I felt a tear slipping down my cheek.  I let it continue its journey and drop onto her white hair.  I felt that she deserved it.

Note:   Caprine Classics Sukey Lee was a beautiful young doeling who caught the eye of everyone who saw her.  She went to only one show in her short life, in which she took reserve grand champion as a junior kid.  She had an upset stomach one morning, presumably because of a toxic plant she ate out in the field.  I had the veterinarian out to take a look because I considered Sukey to be my most valuable doe kid.  Sukey was drenched with mineral oil, but the vet did not use a drench tip, preferring instead to use a large syringe, although we did suggest and offer a drench gun.  As the goat made obvious sounds of chocking and distress, the vet disregarded our concerned questions.
Sukey Lee died of aspiration two hours after the veterinarian left.

This is not to condemn veterinarians.  This is a story of a mistake and the final result.   The moral of the story:  take the few extra moments to do the job right.  In this case, it would probably have saved a life.