Two Ugly Socks, Two Cute Goats

One can get a lot of knitting done when one has a bashed ankle. The somewhat unattractive Zig Zag socks are finished. And you know what? They're even umm ... less attractive in person. I ran out of yarn at the start of the toe decrease on the second sock. Most knitters would simply frog the toe on the first sock and knit the two toes in the same yarn. BUT NOT ME! No, my motto is onwards, always onwards.

So I pulled out two skeins of yarn that I *thought* would closely resemble the original yarn, combined them, and knitted the toe. Oddly enough, as I was knitting I thought to myself, "Hey this IS remarkably close." HA. Wrong. These socks will never be worn with open toed shoes.

Poor little Leland. Despite an original diagnosis of lungworm and a good dose of wormer, he's still been coughing. I may not be neurotic about my socks, but I am about my pets. Yesterday they had a vet clinic at the barn so I coaxed the vet to come and take a look at him. This was a different vet and he made it somewhat obvious that a goat examination was a bit like slumming for a highly qualified horse doctor. Whatever. He listened to Leland's lungs, pronounced them clear and then took his temperature. Leland was a trooper and stood quietly the entire time.

But my buddy has a temperature so now he's on antibiotics. Melissa, if you're reading this it's "Oxytet." Anyway, they have to be administered by injection. The vet asked if I was OK giving Leland a shot every day for seven days and I was all cavalier and waved my hands in the air and said, "Oh no problem!"

"Inject this directly into his hamstring muscle," said the vet. "You can start today."

Hamstring? Do I know where a hamstring is on a goat? I sort of felt around on my leg to remind myself where a hamstring is on a human and decided to umm ... go for it. Managing to distract Leland with a small bowl of grain, I went around to his back end and grabbed a leg. There wasn't much medicine in the syringe so it only took a moment to give him the shot.

And then Leland screamed.

And then he collapsed to the ground.

OHMYGOD OHMYGOD, I KILLED MY GOAT!!!

I flop on the ground beside him and start feeling for a pulse. I've got his little hoof in my hand and I'm running my finger up and down his leg. No pulse! Then I put my hand on his tummy to see if he's breathing. Christ, I don't know where a goat's lungs are! They could be ANYWHERE! Finally he looks up at me with the saddest expression you could possibly imagine and gives a plaintive little "baaaaa."

Wasn't it nice of the vet to forewarn me that these antibiotics HURT when they're adminstered? Stupid jerk. And wasn't it nice of him to forget to tell me they need to be refrigerated? So we'll be throwing out the rest of the medicine because it was Africa hot here today and they'll be ruined now. My poor little monkey.

In an attempt to get Leland to forgive me, I might have given him a bit of extra hay last night.

And I just *know* you want a bumper sticker like this ...