Summer was a scratch-n-dent goat from the start. While she had a lovely fleece, she never grew very big or was very healthy. She failed at having a kid three times, with the third time resulting in a $400 case of mastitis. She was breaking my heart every time, so we stopped letting her breed. December of 2012, she shattered a horn during shearing, which was trauma and drama and hollering and blood everywhere, and required bolt-cutters to straighten out the break before I could get wound-stop on it. And still I loved her.
While April taught me how to be a goat-mom, and Patty taught me what I don't want in a goat, Summer was the one who stole my heart and guaranteed me as an Angora owner. She was a pretty baby (to me) and one of my worst-photographed memories is of Dad feeding her French fries on a brisk winter day. She almost never walked, but always trotted with a jaunty bounce, even when she was old enough to be ponderous. She never socialized with the other goats, and was almost llama-like in her scorn of doing what everyone else did. She chose to come or not like a cat, and hung out with me when the others wandered off. She knew her name to the last, and heard me say it. (The vet was here to help.)
Solevento Farm's Summer
6/31/02 - 3/30/15
A lasting memory
Here's Summer at four years old:
Here is Summer from last week (3/15/2015)
