Rocky the goat died on the 28th of December, 2011. He was a pygmy goat that we had bought from a small fair in Philadelphia, Mississippi, on Saturday, September the 3rd. Rocky was my favorite of all of our many pets since the day we got him. Rocky was a fun and active goat, often going into the neighbor’s yard, once even to their front door! We named him because of his grey color that looked, well, rocky.
I had gotten into a routine with him in which, every morning I would feed the cats behind the trailer then come around to the front where he was and let him out of the cage. From his cage we would both run to the swing-set where the bunnies were in their cage so I could feed them. Rocky would eat out of the bucket of rabbit food while I filled the rabbits’ water bucket. After I took care of the bunnies I would close the bucket of food so he wouldn’t eat too much of it. Afterwards, he would wander around the yard, eating what weeds and grass he chose, or eating the big acorns under the oak tree in our front yard. Usually around the later part of the day he would rest on the steps or the porch in front of the door. Whenever we would open the door he tried to get inside and he often succeeded. Around 5 or 6 o’clock every night I would struggle to get him back in his cage, most of the time leading him with a handful of rabbit food. On the few nights that I had forgotten to put him in his cage, he was good and slept on the back porch until I remembered and put him up. When it got into winter and got really cold, he would go under the trailer through the misplaced panels of the skirting around the bottom of the trailer. It was hard to get him out of there but we always did.
The last night that he slept in that cage was coincidentally the first night that I decided not to give him a handful of food before I went back inside. The next morning he was shivering really badly, in fact that he couldn’t move. I carried him inside and we covered him with blankets and laid him over the vent with the warm air blowing on him. I figured after he was dry and warm we could put him back out and that would be the end of that. But I was wrong.
He came with us, along with the guinea pig and the rabbits, to our grandparents’ house in Louisiana for Christmas and got worse with each passing day. He wouldn’t eat or drink except when we forced it in his mouth. It was Christmas Eve, I believe, when he did finally start eating and drinking again. We let him out in the fenced in area of Nana’s and Pawpaw’s backyard and he would walk around a little or just sit or stand in one place until we brought him back inside. We had his cage in the house where he would stay at night. He stayed in the classroom when the guests were there in the living room and kitchen on Christmas Day. We came back home on the 26th and he stayed inside for the next couple of days. On the 28th Mama took him to the vet with only enough money to do a check up and then put him to sleep. When she called the last time before she came back home I didn’t listen to what she said, only to what Daddy said. After they got off the phone I asked, “How is Rocky?” Daddy said only one word- “Gone.” Immediately I began crying. I’ve cried plenty of times since then and I still miss him. He was a good goat and a great friend. If you would like to see him, there are a few pictures of him and the rest of our animals in my slideshow called Our Little Farm, also on this page. Thanks for reading!