RIP Rosie...

Poor old Rosie who spent her life tethered in a paddock up the road. I imagine her purpose in life was to keep the grass down for the absentee section owner. In this she demonstrably failed. When I took over her 'care' from my sick friend Gloria, Rosie rewarded me with frequent, savage butts, usually to the shins. She was old but she was tough, wary and cranky. 


Over time our relationship improved. I learnt not to come between Rosie and the food I brought her daily - a plastic bag of rolled oats, weetbix, biscuits and, often, apples - plus branches of foliage from the natives in my garden. After eating she was happy to be brushed down, have her head scratched (between the horns) and her ears rubbed. Neighbours Leonie and Ken set up a long wire which gave Rosie greater access to the section. Peter trimmed her hooves when required (a major operation to wrestle Rosie to the ground!). She liked to sit in her strategic position above the road and watch the world pass by. Earlier this year she was savaged by a visiting dog but recovered to make it through to mid-summer.


Age eventually caught up with Rosie and in recent weeks she was struggling to walk. In the past few days she could scarcely get to her feet. I called the 'large animal' vet who came over the hill from Hallswell and confirmed my fears. And so on Monday (the same day that I was diagnosed with shingles!), Rosie had an injection and died quickly and utterly peacefully - no resistance, no distress. Janet Gough and I kept her company and Janet's son Ian dug a hole - so Rosie is buried right beside her shelter, in one of the spots where she liked to sit and keep watch. I cried all day.  

Rosie Goat...

I inherited the care of Rosie Goat from my friend and neighbour Gloria. Rosie is old (no-one knows quite how old), cantankerous, arthritic and has never been well socialised. She is tethered by a chain that runs along a long wire  :-(  Her only real interest in life is food.

I have become very fond of her. She has character.

Breakfast!

Christmas!

Posing in my winter coat

One day recently I got a phone call from neighbour Janet Gough to say that Rosie had just been attacked by a dog. I high-tailed it down the road to find Rosie on the ground, bleeding from multiple puncture wounds in the neck, hyperventilating and clearly in shock. The Gough family, whose daughter Naomi is a doctor, were doing everything possible - most importantly compressing the worst of the bleeding. We took it in turns to sit with Rosie over the next several hours while we tried to get a vet - an endeavour complicated by the fact that it was the day of the memorial service for the earthquake victims and a public holiday. We needed to know whether Rosie had a chance of survival or would need to be put down.

Finally a vet who was willing to come out. By this time we had got Rosie on her feet. She was given antibiotics, painkillers, a spray to discourage flies and a great deal of TLC. Three weeks or so down the track she is thriving (as much as 'elderly' can be said to 'thrive'), especially on the additional attention and food treats. The neck wounds seemed to have healed cleanly. And a local retired gentleman has offered to build her a more commodious (deluxe) wooden shelter for the winter!

On the mend - neck bandage and fancy dog harness 

Community...

My last post and responses to it ("in this age of isolation, when we don't know our neighbours as well as we could...") reminded me of the following little story...


When I first came to live in Governors Bay I was working full time at the university. I would leave home about 7.00am and return about 4.30/5.00pm. I really didn't know my neighbours at all. Then I resigned and started working part-time from home. At about the same time my friend Gloria (about whom I have written at http://headoftheharbour.blogspot.com/2009/04/gloria.html) asked me to look after Rosie Goat. 

Rosie was tethered in a large, sloping section further down the road. Her on-site owner had died and her new owner lived further round the harbour in Cass Bay. Effectively I inherited Rosie's care. Twice a day I would walk down the road with a plastic bag of 'treats' (a selection of rolled oats, weetbix, biscuits, apple, carrot...) and a leafy branches from the native trees in my garden. 


While I could write at length about my initially rocky relationship with Rosie (!), the point of this story is that the simple act of walking down the road to feed and check on her marked the beginning of my getting to know my neighbours along Merlincote Crescent - and the beginning of an on-going process of coming to 'belong'. 

Breakfast!

Having mentioned Rosie Goat in my last post about Gloria, I couldn't resist...

This old nanny goat is tough, cantankerous, utterly self-centered and giving to unpredictable butting.

We have a love/hate relationship.