Grandpa Kleber came to visit us again! This time, he appeared with a girlfriend we hadn't met before. I think her name was Carmen. Carmen was Mexican and interesting stories to tell us.
She had been the youngest of 18 children in Mexico. When she was still an infant, her maternal grandmother died. Her mother left her in the care of an older sister while she went to the funeral. The problem was, Baby Carmen was breastfed and the family was very poor and couldn't afford formula. They did have a dairy goat though. Whenever the baby cried, the goat would come running and jump onto a table next to the house. Carmen's sister would wash the goats udder off and hold the baby under the goat to nurse right off the doe's udder while the goat stood there calmly. Afterwards, the goat would hop down again and go to graze until the baby cried again.
I thought this was pretty amazing. It didn't sound like anything Della, Penny, or Snow would do, but I was impressed by the maternal instinct of that goat, that she would respond to the cries of a human child as she did. And I quietly, secretly wondered what on earth had been wrong with that women to leave her baby so suddenly, without even weaning her, and leave her in the care of a goat?
Carmen and Grandpa fought a lot, and Carmen had a hot temper. When she got mad, she'd walk over and pour a glass of ice water on his head, and that infuriated him. It was definitely disrespectful. It was good that we had work to do, moving Denny Driver's stuff yet again, this time to our place. Grandpa Kleber helped us with all our work, helping to drive the truck and low trailer. We made a number of trips back and forth, and they were leaving for one of them when they called me to hurry and get in the truck. I had Snow on her tether rope, the rope I'd spent hours braiding carefully from baling twine, and was standing at the corner of the pen where it opened. They yelled at me again to come on, hurry up. Sarah was putting Della in, so I handed her Snow's rope and asked her to put her in for me, and I ran to the truck. It was our last load of stuff for the night, and we had to hurry before it got dark.
When we got back, we ate dinner, and then there was some sort of a horrible fight between Grandpa and Carmen, with a lot of yelling and screaming. I was scared; I'd never heard Grandpa angry before. Sarah said something to me about Snow. I didn't really hear her or listen I was all freaked out over this enormous fight, which was a lot louder and more volatile than what Mom and Dad usually did. I huddled in our room and wished the fight would just stop. Late that night, they drove off together.
In the morning, I was awakened by Raphah, earlier than usual. His face was pale and he was mumbling something about Snow. He finally stammered out that Snow was hurt, that she was bleeding. I asked if she was alive, and he said yes, but she was in bad shape, and said something about chunks bitten out of her. When I heard that last part, I dressed hurriedly and ran outside. Snow was laying on the ground moaning aloud, a sound I'd never before heard from her. The area of her flank that covered where her rear leg joined her body had been ripped off. The skin was simply missing, the flesh torn. Her udder had been bitten and gouged, her legs lacerated and her underbelly gaped open. I had never seen an animal so badly injured and still living. She looked at me helplessly and made that horrible, sad sound again and I realized with a lurch in my heart that it wasn't that she didn't know she was mine, she was simply a strong, independent personality. She just wasn't the clingy sort. I stroked her neck and cried, lied to her and told her she was going to be OK.
Apparently she had never been put into the pen the night before. Even though I'd had her front end, her head and neck, already entering the pen, for some obscure reason, Sarah had pulled her back out and simply looped the end of her rope over the uprights on the pen. She wasn't even tied to it. During the night, she'd been running around or walking around, and something had attacked her. Mom said it must have been coyotes, and we quickly assumed that the coyotes were in fact to blame. The strange thing was that Snow had been found, wounded and bleeding and tangled up, within the radius of Precious' chain and Precious was still slavering and barking at her. In retrospect, this was as obvious a dog attack as could be found without actually catching the dog in the act, but of course, we were selling Precious' puppies now, at $40 a pop, with up to 14 puppies a litter. We carried Snow over to the front lawn and tied her to a wheel rim. She didn't even stand up. I sat with her day after day and cried bitter tears of regret, wishing with all my heart that I'd finished putting her in the pen myself.
She had been the youngest of 18 children in Mexico. When she was still an infant, her maternal grandmother died. Her mother left her in the care of an older sister while she went to the funeral. The problem was, Baby Carmen was breastfed and the family was very poor and couldn't afford formula. They did have a dairy goat though. Whenever the baby cried, the goat would come running and jump onto a table next to the house. Carmen's sister would wash the goats udder off and hold the baby under the goat to nurse right off the doe's udder while the goat stood there calmly. Afterwards, the goat would hop down again and go to graze until the baby cried again.
I thought this was pretty amazing. It didn't sound like anything Della, Penny, or Snow would do, but I was impressed by the maternal instinct of that goat, that she would respond to the cries of a human child as she did. And I quietly, secretly wondered what on earth had been wrong with that women to leave her baby so suddenly, without even weaning her, and leave her in the care of a goat?
Carmen and Grandpa fought a lot, and Carmen had a hot temper. When she got mad, she'd walk over and pour a glass of ice water on his head, and that infuriated him. It was definitely disrespectful. It was good that we had work to do, moving Denny Driver's stuff yet again, this time to our place. Grandpa Kleber helped us with all our work, helping to drive the truck and low trailer. We made a number of trips back and forth, and they were leaving for one of them when they called me to hurry and get in the truck. I had Snow on her tether rope, the rope I'd spent hours braiding carefully from baling twine, and was standing at the corner of the pen where it opened. They yelled at me again to come on, hurry up. Sarah was putting Della in, so I handed her Snow's rope and asked her to put her in for me, and I ran to the truck. It was our last load of stuff for the night, and we had to hurry before it got dark.
When we got back, we ate dinner, and then there was some sort of a horrible fight between Grandpa and Carmen, with a lot of yelling and screaming. I was scared; I'd never heard Grandpa angry before. Sarah said something to me about Snow. I didn't really hear her or listen I was all freaked out over this enormous fight, which was a lot louder and more volatile than what Mom and Dad usually did. I huddled in our room and wished the fight would just stop. Late that night, they drove off together.
In the morning, I was awakened by Raphah, earlier than usual. His face was pale and he was mumbling something about Snow. He finally stammered out that Snow was hurt, that she was bleeding. I asked if she was alive, and he said yes, but she was in bad shape, and said something about chunks bitten out of her. When I heard that last part, I dressed hurriedly and ran outside. Snow was laying on the ground moaning aloud, a sound I'd never before heard from her. The area of her flank that covered where her rear leg joined her body had been ripped off. The skin was simply missing, the flesh torn. Her udder had been bitten and gouged, her legs lacerated and her underbelly gaped open. I had never seen an animal so badly injured and still living. She looked at me helplessly and made that horrible, sad sound again and I realized with a lurch in my heart that it wasn't that she didn't know she was mine, she was simply a strong, independent personality. She just wasn't the clingy sort. I stroked her neck and cried, lied to her and told her she was going to be OK.
Apparently she had never been put into the pen the night before. Even though I'd had her front end, her head and neck, already entering the pen, for some obscure reason, Sarah had pulled her back out and simply looped the end of her rope over the uprights on the pen. She wasn't even tied to it. During the night, she'd been running around or walking around, and something had attacked her. Mom said it must have been coyotes, and we quickly assumed that the coyotes were in fact to blame. The strange thing was that Snow had been found, wounded and bleeding and tangled up, within the radius of Precious' chain and Precious was still slavering and barking at her. In retrospect, this was as obvious a dog attack as could be found without actually catching the dog in the act, but of course, we were selling Precious' puppies now, at $40 a pop, with up to 14 puppies a litter. We carried Snow over to the front lawn and tied her to a wheel rim. She didn't even stand up. I sat with her day after day and cried bitter tears of regret, wishing with all my heart that I'd finished putting her in the pen myself.
posted by chamoisee at
4:00 PM
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