The Goaties Get a Checkup: First Vet Visit

One of my best yard sale scores ever has to be a tiny yellow scrap of paper with the unlisted phone number of a private goat veterinarian - given to me by the couple who sold me this wooden shelter - anyone who has ever sought a vet who treats goats will appreciate what a treasure this was. Nervous about someday needing caprine medical care and having nowhere to go, and even though this vet was reportedly not accepting new clients, I decided to call (and beg!) and today she agreed to come and meet the boys, give them rabies shots and take away a sample of their droppings. Quite the morning...

Wanting to make sure I had a fresh sample for her to examine, I sat out on the deck early with a plastic cup, waiting for the goats' breakfast to reappear out the other end. Apparently it is best to catch a sample mid-air before the pellets touch the ground.  Knowing my goats, I figured I wouldn't have long to wait. Boy, was I wrong! Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty...what on earth? I felt like Horton the Elephant waiting on that egg, "and she sat, and she sat, and she sat, and she sat..." Success was a long time coming, but finally I collected the precious specimen for the veterinarian.

Although she was impressed by the Em and Ellie's deluxe living accomodations as well as the fact that they are litter-trained to "pee" in a tray of wood shavings (apparently unheard of in goats), she also told me that they appeared somewhat "rotund" and strongly suggested we cut back on grain. Also, she thought maybe we should start weaning them off bottles...oh how sad. As I wiped the tears from their little goat eyes, she reached down to check their horn scurs, those nasty and persistent sharp growths where their horns were twice burned away. Ellie especially had one worrisome scur which curled downward toward his scalp and threatened to puncture the skin. I held Ellie (loving a new person petting him!) when suddenly he emitted the most ghastly howl of agony and thrashed off my lap - and there stood my new vet with bloody hands and holding two little scurs ripped from his head. Despite my shock and horror at seeing Ellie's also-bleeding head (scurs have a rampant blood supply), I was actually quite impressed, as the alternatives are anesthesia and re-burning with a red-hot iron. I never knew you could just rip them off!

Emerson's single scur fortunately required no attention, and he was quite content to snuggle with me while getting his rabies shot. Elliot, however, would now have nothing to do with us, and we embarked on a wild chase around the yard, me with a shaker of treats and the vet with her needle, until I worried that Ellie (fast and wily but terrified) would have a heart attack. (Goats are not supposed to be stressed...) Then I worried that I might have a heart attack as this was more than my usual level of exertion. We did finally corner him in the wooden house and he got his injection with me lying on top of him. (At least, I think he was the one who got the shot...)

What a relief to have a competent vet for the boys - like when you find the perfect pediatrician for your newborn. The only problem is Ellie still won't come near me. Guess I'll have to give him lots of extra attention this weekend. I don't think I'll take away his bottle just yet...