The Unkindest Pinch Of All

Poor Hoggle was "itted" this week. A couple of months ago I had asked Andrew the farm manager if he could help and he promised to come over once he had time from other farm work. On Monday I was in the midst of moving Xena Warrior Goat into the shade when I saw Andrew hop the front fence walking towards me waving an elastigator in his hand. One sight of him was enough for Xena who broke away and ran towards the hen house with the others. I went back and caught Hoggle but when Andrew came near the girls panicked and jumped the fence into the paddock, hiding beneath the trees.

"She hates me" Andrew remarked.

I replied the Xena seemed to hate all men for some reason but he then explained that she really hated him because when he tried to round them up the previous week to bring them home she "was a right bitch" so he set the dogs on her.

He told me to hold Hoggle tightly by the head before swinging him upside down and sticking him between his legs. With one slight click the deed was done and a rubber ring was inserted at the base of Hog's family jewels. Not a sound until Andrew let him go when he wailed "Maaaaaaah look what they've done!" and ran off to find the others. It took me a full hour to catch Xena again and then that was only by rattling the pellet container. I tied her in the shade and Hoggle spent the next two hours sitting with her, periodically checking between his hind legs, stamping his feet and wagging his tail.

The next morning he seemed really miserable. He wouldn't eat, hiding beneath the old wash house which drove Xena to distraction. By Wednesday he was eating pellets again although his attempts at running were limited to a "hop, skip and jump" gait. This is the first morning he seems really relaxed and back to his old self although I'm still persona non goata. Who can blame him! The girls though are very happy since they don't have to excape Hoggle's many attempts at doing the wild thing.


A week ago I lost dear Sherbet at only three years of age from a heart attack. He seemed to rally for a couple of days before passing away in his sleep. He was a real character as a baby. Forever getting out of the nest box I once found him seemingly dead. However on observing a slight movement I rushed him inside the house, immersed him up to the neck in warm water which revived him before shoving him in my bra returning him to the nest box where I piled his siblings on top. Within an hour he was toasty warm and wiggling around like the rest. He was always the smallest in the litter though so perhaps there was always a weakness there I didn't know about. He now joins Grandfather Pip and Dad Frodo in that big carrot patch in the sky.