Three days

Tonight we will wish for a calm night for Goldilocks.
We decided -- after three days -- to stop force-feeding her tonight.
She was born small and weak,
rejected by her mother.
Had she been human, expensive state-of-the-art medical technology might have saved her.
But she was not human.
The best we could do was force-feed her milk from her mother
via a bottle.
She had no suckling instinct,
and could not hold anything in.
But she had verve.
I think about life, and how we complain about it sometimes,
and I think about what life gives you when you only get three days of it.

She got ...
birth and tongue licks from her mother, cleaning her up in straw;
milk from a bottle every one or two hours;
a chance to wear a goat sweater;
a night in the house near the space heater;
lots of hugs, reiki, and prayers.
She got a day in the field under a brilliant sun
to soak in Vitamin D.
She got a kid brother who nibbled her ears,
licked her face,
and suckled her mouth, perhaps in an effort
to teach her the ropes.
She got held by two humans,
visited by three cats.

She gave ...
life and focus to her human parents, who tried to keep her alive;
a reason to warm milk every one or two hours;
a lesson in how to put on a goat sweater.
A new reason to break out the down comforter,
lots of reasons to offer hugs, reiki, and prayers.
Time outdoors under a brilliant sun
to hold her and receive Vitamin D.
Sadness, yet hope
that she might still yet figure out how to take food.
A short life with many memories
for us to call up.