Oct. 03, 2006 ~ The naming of calves
She's still alive. And she has a name. Naming them is a bad sign, always. We usually only do that if we are planning to keep them. I haven't mentioned it to Husband yet, not wanting to jinx anything, but her name is Little Sister. We hate to invest emotionally in this calf, because it is hard to lose one when you've been taking care of it, nursing it along. It almost becomes a pet.
So last night, Husband went to check on the calf. I kept listening for the sound of a gunshot, and it never came. He walked in the door and I was afraid to ask. But he didn't look sad.
"She looks better than she did yesterday!"
"How can that be POSSIBLE?"
"Don't know, but she does."
"Huh."
I saw Dr. Susan today at lunch, and mentioned the calf. She said it could be a birth injury which caused swelling along the spinal cord. She gave us steroids and other meds, and Husband gave Little Sister a shot tonight. The kind that doesn't come from a gun.
"Did she fight you?" I asked.
I'm no longer able to wrestle calves so didn't go with him, not wanting to tempt myself to help. Oh, shoot. That's partly true, but really, I was just afraid she had already died, and I didn't want to see her.
No, she did not fight the shot. She licked Husband's arm, a sweet baby calf kiss, friendly and adorable. He said she won his heart.
sigh.
Man.
I hate getting my hopes up.
But she's really, really cute.
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