Our Weather Goat (Meaning a 'fixed' male goat, NOT a goat
that predicts the weather, but hey- around here, you never know) has a stenosed
(narrowed) urethra, meaning either it's going to rain till we all buy boats, or
the poor dude is on his way to the BBQ. He's a Boer. His name is Po.
(Normally, weathers are butchered, but this one was a pet
goat that was 'rescued' and part of the humorous stuff I get to blog about.
Boers are meat goats for my cityfied friends).
Long story short, when they get fixed, the peeing problem
happens anyway, but since they aren't expected to be around for a long time, it
doesn't concern those involved. Kinda like steers for beef. (Even big $
breeding bulls are only good for 4-6 years- where do you think that hamburger
comes from?)
I know, right? I call him Po'Goat now. I feel his pain now
and then at work when I can't get out of an O.R. room to pee. The human bladder
was not meant to hold more than 1000mL, so when you hit 1001- you guessed it.
Especially when a couple three babies
have raised hell with it as they went by.
So, Poor Po'Goat is not feeling well. Not much Dr. Wilber
can do either, because there are just some things you can't fix.
Don't you worry- there are going to be replacements, because
Luigi the Love goat has been busy with his two lady friends. Long about
February, we should have the pitter-patter of little goat feet running around
the pasture. More for me to write about, (and you to read about).
Happy Sunday, I'm going back to the homework page. sigh.
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