I lost my First goat this week. It was would be an understatement to say heartbreaking. She was the herd’s communications officer. Kara spoke to the humans so everyone else could eat. I would arrive on scene each morning say “Kara” and she would always answer in goat song.
She had one set of survivors, her son holds the record for being the 3-legged goat in the herd whose surgery cost more than the entire herds’ adoption fees. Her daughter is on the spectrum as far as goats go but growing on me. Kara was the heart of gold that mothered them until the end. I literally watched her on at least a dozen occasions tucking them in and watching over them sleeping, her adult kids:)
Often I have written of Houdini, The Oakenshield, who never met a grain or grass that shouldn’t be digested and who loves each offspring until they take her food. Kara was her friend too. Kara also adopted her daughter Zora when we were in the Galapagos, and they were always close
Kara died from a long and slow growing neoplasm that spread from her left udder to her liver. She carried her tumor like an anchor until she could no longer stand.
We should all hope to leave a similar wake of good humor and regrowth before departing this broken world. ❤️ Ms Kara I will see you again someday on the other side of that old rain-bent bridge where the grass is high enough to nourish.