Caprine Consolation

Oh no.  The black buckling has died.  Fine for three days, weak on Saturday, worse on Sunday, then no poos, convulsions, cries, last breath.  Ken held the little guy in his lap and Clare pet him until the end.  They buried him in the evening at the north end of our property.

We will, indeed, keep the white doeling now.  A bit of sweet consolation to remember her brother.

She was the first to hold him and the last to hold him.  Her passion is my consolation.  I love you, Clare.