Yesterday was a difficult day – there is sadness here as well as joy.

Here is the story

Ruth gave birth to triplets last Thursday morning.

Goats, in our experience, usually give birth to twins or singletons. This was the first set of goat triplets born at The Gables. Ruth seemed to recover well and was feeding her kids and we were supplementing them with bottles.

Two days ago Ruth became listless and was straining and a bit bloody. Yesterday, when she wasn’t interested in her food, I googled her symptoms and decided to call the vet. The lovely young woman arrived late morning and gave Ruth a painkilling injection, an antibiotic jab, a drench containing electrolytes and a hormone injection to encourage her body to expel any membranes that might still be inside her. There was also the slight possibility of a retained unborn kid (as had happened the week before with Wisp).

We all thought and hoped that Ruth would be on the road to recovery and I would continue to give her daily antibiotic injections to finish the course.

Two hours later I was on my hands and knees scraping weeds from between the outdoor paving slabs when I heard banging. I went to investigate and found Ruth lying under the slide by the climbing frame – her neck at a strange angle and her legs thrashing against the slide. I stroked her and wondered what to do. The intermittent fits continued and I called the vet, sent her a video and she decided to return asap. I lay next to Ruth stroking her and talking to her and got a bucket of cool water and a towel. I put the damp towel over her back to bring down her temperature and protect her from the hot afternoon sun.

Within the hour the vet was with us and visibly shocked at the sight of Ruth, whose legs were rigid and who had a temperature and a very fast heart rate.

“I don’t think she’ll make it, will she?”

The vet became tearful

“I can’t believe how quickly she’s gone downhill. It’s probably sepsis. Her legs won’t bend. I want to try one injection but…”

I was comforting the vet and I didn’t have the luxury of crying.

“You’ll have to put her down. Don’t worry. She’s had a wonderful life here and it’s just bad luck”.

The vet wiped away more tears.

“I’ll hold her whilst you do it. I’ve held old sheep before when they were injected”.

“Are you ready?”

“Just give me a moment”.

I ran to the goat shed snd got some paper towel to blow my nose and wipe my own tears away before making sure that I wouldn’t distress Ruth or the vet.

I lay back down next to Ruth snd told her what a lovely girl she was whilst Jeremy stood beside us and the vet administered the final injection. It didn’t take long and she was at peace.

I fetched a wheelbarrow and we all manoeuvred Ruth into a large yellow body bag and onto the barrow which Jeremy pushed to the vet’s van.

She was going to leave but we encouraged the vet to come in for a drink and a piece of cake. She was in no fit state to drive. After 20 minutes, a glass of squash and some cinnamon bun and a good chat about animals – the vet was smiling again.

I had warmed three bottles of milk and rushed out to the paddock to feed the three orphans.

This morning they were bright and playful and hungry with no sign that they had noticed the disappearance of their mother!