Dear Puffin...

Dear Puffin,

I was so very sad today to discover you had left me.  Your soul has departed, but your spirit will live on here on the farm.  I will remember the way that you ran and played with the other goats.  I will remember how you loved to have your neck and back rubbed, especially when you were losing your winter furry coat.  I will remember your perfectly symmetrical horns, and your beautiful dark brown eyes.  I will remember the way that the little white tufts of fur surrounded the base of your ears, and how soft they were when I touched them.  I will remember that I bought you for just $35 at an animal fair in Missouri.  I wanted to give you a good, safe home.  I will remember bringing you home with your friend, Stuffin, and wondering if you were sisters.

I  will remember that you were always one of the first to come to the gate when you thought I might have treats.  I will remember your bleating in the mornings, and your tail wagging when you had peppermint alfalfa treats, or pieces of banana.  I will remember how you didn't seem to care when it snowed, and you just kept looking for treats and hanging around with Coffee.

I will remember how excited I was when Valentino's marking harness showed that you had been bred, and I will remember thinking that you would be a good mother.   I will remember seeing you grow larger by the day, and seeing your udder so full of nutrition for your little ones.

I will remember worrying that you might be carrying triplets or quadruplets, and wondering what on earth I would do to help you care for them, but you just kept on eating, as if to say it was no problem.

I will remember feeling your ligaments on Sunday night, and knowing you were close to giving birth.

I will remember the screams you made on Monday morning, and the feeling I had in the pit of my belly when I knew that things were not progressing as they should.  I will remember holding your head in my lap, and stroking your head, and trying to make you feel comfortable during your contractions.  I will remember trying to reposition your baby, feeling without seeing, trying to make things right.  I will remember calling the vet to come and help you, because I could no longer do so.  I will remember that he tried his best, and I know that you were in pain.  I will remember how much it hurt me that we were hurting you.  I will remember the baby you nurtured, that never had a chance to breathe the spring air.  I will remember the tragedy of your first baby, and the miraculous survival of your second baby.  I will remember your trembling body and your distant gaze when you had given up the lives within you.

I will remember the feelings I had when I saw that you would not eat or drink, even when I brought you freshly picked dandelion greens.  I will remember the faint moan you made this morning when I went into your pen, and what I knew in my heart when I saw you.  I will remember realizing that your last act was in giving life, and I will cherish your little girl and do whatever I can to give her a strong future.

I will remember that you were loved, and that you were so much more valuable to me than your $35 price tag could ever begin to explain.  I will remember the lessons you taught me, and I will cherish each memory I have of you in my heart.

Goodbye, sweet Puffin.  Your body is cold, but your memory shall always be warm in my heart.