The Good, The Bad, and The Unfortunate

These last couple of weeks have flown by. And I'm happy to say that the lambing and births were a success. Yes, there were some ups and downs, some questions of whether things were going to be okay - or not. Overall, I'll consider it a wonderful 1st time lambing success.
I left off with Belle having her lamb, Lulu. Lulu looks exactly like Belle! She's going to be tall, like her mama. Lulu has nursed well from Belle, and is growing at a normal pace. All the lambs will continue to nurse until almost 3 months old. Lulu is nibbling at the alfalfa hay, and sleeping (at night) on one of the dog beds in the sheep pen regularly. She's begun playing with the other lambs, and is joyous and happy. Her unfavorite thing is the really cold weather. We had 3-4 nights straight of 20 degree nights. Lulu is not a fan. I'm so proud of her, and I don't really know why. I just am. She's been a breeze to handle, observing her growth, and be an independent lamb. Belle turned out to be an amazing mama, and continues to love and nurture Lulu. They are quite the team! And maybe Belle still looks pregnant, but that's our Belle. She loves her grain, and will still drink out of the bottle that's intended for Grace.
Speaking of Grace, she was first born of Eve's twins, and seemed the sturdiest at first glance, and that first day. That lasted for about a day or two, maybe. We saw it coming, that Eve would not be the best mama to Grace, as she favored Clara instead. Clara was small and petite at birth, and despite our first impression, has far surpassed Grace in size. Eve allowed Clara to nurse often and well. Granted, Eve only has one udder of milk, but it's a huge udder full of plenty of milk for both lambs. But as sheep do, they tend to "kick off" a lamb, and favor another. Clara was the chosen one, while Grace begin to slowly starve, if she was to be left alone to only get milk from Eve. Starvation in lambs is one of the two major reasons lambs die. The sheep mamas will turn away their own lamb baby(s) and it's hard to watch. So sad. But it's part of raising sheep, and a good shepherd/shepherdess will watch for these signs. Management of the lambing process is critical to the success of the lambs. And we did start supplementing Grace soon after we saw what was occurring. But as instinct tells them, Grace wanted her mama's milk, and would shun the bottle. But hunger and time changed all that. Grace slowly begin to take the bottle more, and learned that we were her source of milk. Her bottle milk has become a main-stay for her, and she's supplementing from Eve whenever she can get a quick drink from her mama. Which is not often. Therefore, we needed to enlist someone to come give Grace a bottle at lunchtime. Insert awesome Paul and Angela. They are friends who also live in Gunter, and come daily to feed Grace at lunchtime. What a blessing. They offer Grace a bottle during the day while we are at work. This holds Grace over, until we come home. Grace is now up to 1, sometimes 1 1/2 bottles in the morning, 1/2 bottle at lunch, and then another 1-1 1/2 bottles again in the evening. Finally, she has perked up! She's been out playing with the other lambs now. She's significantly smaller than Clara and Lulu, as she's had a rough go of it with being pushed away by Eve. But she is thriving well now, and will catch up in size eventually. She's the oldest, yet so much smaller, that you'd think she was much younger. Just the fact that she's going to survive is magical. All 3 lambs will be okay, and considering we have been bouncing along this lamb journey, we are thrilled beyond words. Angela and Paul may not realize it completely, but they are key. Key in offering Grace what she needs when we are not there. Thank you, Paul, for taking time out of every day to nurture one who now sees you as their "mama".
As I breathe a big sign of relief for the safety and security of the lambs future, I would deflate in a different area. Whisper. Awwwhhh, sweet livestock-guard-dog-never-known-any-other-life-dog-of-ours. Whisper had her surgery this past Tuesday. Successful TPLO with screws, plate and such. I brought her home Wednesday evening with a incision 8 inches long down her back left leg. Her back story is that she "came with the house". Her brother, Levi, and herself had been brought to the farm as Great Pyrenees pups, and when we bought the house, they were part of the deal. Best deal ever, by the way. They are livestock guard dogs like no other, except Whisper struggled with her back leg and a torn cruciate ligament. It's hard to run like that, and the pain was beginning to affect her appetite, and her lifestyle. It was hard to watch, as she takes her job seriously and continues to guard no matter what. She's Super Dog. So we had a couple of options: let her go lame, put her down, or surgery. Wow, none of those were remotely good. So, surgery it is. But there was no one there to tell me you can't take the guard out of the guard dog. It would be a hard lesson learned.
David and I had dotted the i's and crossed the t's. Her place was ready for her, after surgery. We had a brand new clean dog bed (infection control), rubber flooring placed so she wouldn't slide with her legs on the tile/wood floors, and a chain link fence gate secured strongly, across the large area she would reside for months in the laundry room. Inside. Yes, we were ready. Little did we know that Whisper wasn't. Sure, we knew it would be hard, she would adjust, right? She would be hurting from the pain and lay low. The Vet demanded/highly recommended she be place in the house, and contained there. "The barn would be too dirty, too much temptation and stress, as she would not be able to do her usual job of guarding", we were told. You ready for this? No running for 4-6 months. Confinement. Okay, then, we are ALL IN. Mentally and physically we had prepared and looked forward to helping her get better. We thought we had it all under control. Uh, no.
Whisper does not walk on a leash. She has only lived in the pasture and barn. That's all she knows, and that's who she is. That's where she's happy. Period. The End. She desires no other life. Getting her to and from the vet for surgery was arduous and wearisome. She's never really been out of the pasture, as her shots from the vet have always been with Farm Visits from the vet. Now, she's in a car, on a leash, and in a house, all with 24-48 hours. She's stressed, panting, slobbering, and whining uncontrollably. We do everything we can to console her along this journey. She's inconsolable. All she wants is her brother and the pasture. So we do the opposite after surgery, and bring her in the house where it's warm, comfortable and pain meds are flowing like a foundation. She'll adjust, right? Uh, no. After hard work, begging, prompting and physical work, Whisper is placed in her appointed Recovery Area, whereby she'll reside for at least 2-3 months, minimum. There are puppy pads for pottying purposes, a bed for comfort, and rubber mats so not to slip and hurt herself and what the doctor has repaired.
1st night in the Recovery Area went splendid. Wow, she's not that happy, but she's doing "okay". The next day arrives and it's Day 1 in the Recovery Area. 5 hours later, while we are at work, she's dug out of the chain link fence we had secured well. The base of the fence held fine, but Whisper literally tore part the chain link part. I have no idea how this can happen, as it's a manufactured product that holds in many peoples pets in this universe. Not Whisper. With blood below it, she fought that fence hard, and she won. I've never seen anything like it. I had been watching her on the security camera I set up near her, (off and on during the day) and notice she's escaped. How did I miss that?! I immediately leave work, fly home in my car, and pull down the drive. Yep. There she is. Back in the pasture, down by the pond with her brother Levi. I see how happy she is. I'm swirling in emotions at this point. Mad, sad, upset, disappointed I can't even keep a dog locked up, if I wanted to. I'm so mad at myself for letting this happen. Out of the car and into the house to pull myself together and make a plan. I'll leave the details out, but within about 10 minutes, I have her back in the barn in a caged area, Recovery Area #2, I'll call it. Another chain linked fence 10X10. I'll save you time and tell you that it didn't take long for her to pull apart that fence. Her desire is far greater than the pain she experiences doing that. But this time, I was there. David begin putting together some fencing that is welded, and again, we make her Recovery Area #3. Welded fencing. How can she get out of that? She can't. Eventually, she relinquishes her Will. It's not going to be "her" Will be done.
Big sigh. The question is now, did she mess her leg up? She wasn't touching it on the ground when she was out. The better question is, how could she NOT have messed it up? I feel so responsible that I'm beside myself. What should I do? Pray. And I do just that all week. I pray and pray that God will show mercy on Whisper - and me, and allow her leg to heal. According to the Vet now, time will tell. They will X-ray it again when she gets her stitches out. The waiting begins.
For now, she's in the barn, in a welded fenced area and everything they told us not to do - we've done. Dayummm. I'm a nurse, how could I do everything wrong. Everything. Just typing this is painful. And quite frankly, her leg looks pretty good. She did some toe touching on it today. She's eating wonderfully and taking all her medication. She's tolerating the Recovery Area #3. And, despite the fact that she mutilated her Cone of Shame on Day 1, she is leaving her incision alone, and it looks good. Bright side, I suppose.
Sometimes things we touch in life, turn to gold. In this particular case, not so much. I will use my arsenal of Hope and Faith to pull through this. They are the goldfish in the glass fishbowl, as I like to coin it. Hope and Faith. Swimming around in my heart and head. They are two things in life that are nonnegotiable. First and foremost, trust in God, then it's Hope and Faith that sees me through. And pray. No matter what, I know that it is in God's hands, and that in itself brings me all the comfort I need. And you know I'll keep you posted.

It will be okay. I'm throwing that out to the universe. It will be okay.

Cyndi