Against all the odds, and rattling like an old train when he drinks (antibiotics are not helping him – they seldom do help such young bony animals) The Little Bobby is still alive.
Yesterday afternoon I shifted him into the small pen close by my bedroom window and gave him small sips of colostrum (I have jars of frozen colostrum in my freezer) . This is the last weapon in my arsenal.
He is by far the worst affected because of his small size but he continues to fight (he came in weighing 58 pounds and the man said no-one else bid on him at the sale because of it). His diarrhea continues unabated and he suffers silently and stoically.
I brought him into this outside pen close to the house (with a little hut) so he could die outdoors. but stay isolaated from the other animals, having a sick animal on the farm terrifies me. But I feel strongly that animals, when they die, and we all will, need to be able to breathe clean air and see the stars.
Not die in a nasty dark corner of the barn surrounded in flies.
This is what I would want for myself. To die inside would be hell for me and my children and my husband have been instructed that if we have the chance and the choice to carry me outside or at the very least make sure there is an open window close to me. And never, never let me die in a hospital.
Goodness I am maudlin this morning. But we should all make these decisions and leave instructions with our kin, just in case.
But the animals cannot choose so I choose for them and even though the Little Bobby has battled on this long and I will continue to battle with him, if he is to die today, at least he is lying under a tree wearing his warm jacket until the sun comes up, with cats in the branches and dogs close by. He can hear the roosters crowing and he can hear me moving about. Surely that is better.
Three of the other calves in the West barn, though still having bouts of scours, get up the moment I enter the barn and are eating and drinking with vigour. One I am having to force to eat but I have decided to switch her to colostrum too today. They all still get three big drinks of electrolyte a day and small milk drinks the other three feeds. There first feed is at six and the last one at about 11.30pm so it is a long day. We are under the care of the vet and doing everything we can. It is all about the fluids. As much electrolyte as possible is the most important thing, then some food.
The bottles are warm now so I shall get going.
I hope you have a lovely day. I have already found loveliness in the sunrise. The Little Bobby and I watched it rise during his pre-dawn feed which he drunk enthusiastically.
Much love
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
86 responses to “Still alive”
Life and death a fine balance..but whatever happens you could not have done anymore than you have. Your dedication to your animals astounds me..xxxxxx
Your caring is so magnificent, Celi, & all the words so beautiful & touching. I just want to add my tears for Godot & best hopes for Little Bobby. And for All at The Farmy, such a special place in our hearts.
You are an old soul, Ci. You know life is, yet battle for what it could/should be. Kindness and compassion and outdoor is finally the best medicine. WIll be thinking of you and Little Bobby who came where he needed to be. It’s hard to be strong sometimes. Only the best and wisest can be so.
Little needs Boo right now. Fluids and Boo-Nanny can be curative. I hope for a happy outcome for all of you.
Tenderness and a soft breeze is what I wish for little Bobby, you and all the farm animals
Outdoors with a glass of champagne in my hand sounds good to me! Wishing all positive energy and recovery to the bobby. I know he knows he’s cared for.
I wish I was there to snuggle your poor sick baby. I feel like he needs his mommy. Goodness how do we keep tiny humans alive when big babies like Little are so fragile? I know he’s showing better but my morning is still teary.
You have given the little bobby all you can and if he goes his last breath will be fresh air. You are a caring and compassionate person. We all should be so lucky to have one like you take care of us.
If ever Little was meant to live, he couldn’t be in better hands to do so. Just like helping an animal or human die with love and compassion, you are helping him live with the same. I have a feeling he may just pull through but I know one thing, if he wasn’t there with you, he would of been gone days ago.
xo
Just when I am in the midst of compiling a dying-and-death checklist to write up and stick in with my (our) will and share with family & co. I can think of no kinder fate than to rest in the loving care of Miss C when I’m on my deathwatch, but as you’ve already got your arms full, I’ll hope for someone as pragmatic yet tenderhearted as you. Hope all of the farmy angels are watching over all of you especially this week. Clearly Godot felt compelled to join those forces early; I’ll bet he’s following the action right now.
xoxo
K
I hope all goes well today and in the coming days. You surely do work hard at it and I know often there is great reward.
Yes, fresh air, grass and nature is what this little bobby needs. Plus all the TLC which you are so good at giving Celi.
You so clearly demonstrate how it’s possible to change the world one tiny little being at a time. By thinking of the best we’d want for Little it makes us consider the best we’d want for ourselves and not just other people but all creatures. To live well, and die well whenever it may come to us. Sending positive thoughts… goes without saying but anyway 🙂
Thinking of you and the love circling your little farmy… not just you and all your beloved and loving creatures, but the thoughts and prayers and love of all your readers, – we all care about you all, and I can’t help visiualising a cobweb of golden threads woven around the world, with its centre and deep heart of love in your precious little farmy… with love from New Zealand,
I am so lucky to have The Fellowship. SO LUCKY! It is like a web isn’t it.. a golden one for sure.. c
We are so lucky to have YOU, Cecilia. Just this noon I told a friend about you and handed over my iPhone. She read and read, saying,”This is incredible!” She is a profound animal lover too. Just for the record, I wrote a poem at least 40 years ago “Dying Outside”. (My hands were on the silver arms of a lawn chair…not the bars of a hospital bed.)
Just wonderful.. yes we should make some kind of club so if there is a need for kidnappings from hospital we can all rush in and help!