Hanging on and letting go

So let's just get the bad news out of the way first, shall we? Sometime in the night just hours before we headed to the airport to fly to Texas for my brother's memorial service, my frail old wether Bittersweet lay down and died. There wasn't enough time to do more than remove him from the Sheep Sheraton before we left.

The other animals all fared well under my dear friend's care. She agreed with my concern that Bernadette was drying up, so she started supplementing Broadway with the bottle after she nursed. Bernadette is still not willingly standing for her lamb to suckle, but she is getting tamer to me, sometimes drawing near for chin rubs while I feed Bling. The lambs are both little dolls:

When Rick finally had time to bury Bittersweet, we decided to put Vienna down and bury them together. "Grandma" has been skin and bones for many months despite supplemental feed morning and evening, and recently had been struggling with her cud; it was time. Rick asked about saving her fleece, but I knew standing for my slow scissor-shearing would have been too hard on her and I just couldn't face shearing her after Rick put her down. To my surprise, he did it for me, a true labor of love.

As for our trip to Texas, it was precious. Dad had declined dramatically in the two and a half weeks since I departed, but though bed-bound, he is still very much present. I took photos of him with his two great-grandchildren, but never thought to have someone take a photo of my sister and me with him, or his three grandchildren with him; that will be a life-long regret. Rick stayed with him during my brother's memorial last Sunday; Brian streamed it to Rick's phone so they could watch it together while I shot it in video segments on Dad's iPhone so he could watch it all again later.

Compare these to my post from March 22....

Last Monday we all left for home; my sister and her son, me and my family, and late in the day, my brother's daughter (above) and her family. That was very hard; we are concerned for Mom's ability to keep everything straight and take proper care of herself and my dad. An in-home aide is coming for a couple hours morning and evening; we think she needs someone to come in for at least 12 hours a day. But what can we do? As with my son, you can't make an adult do anything....

I can only do my best to get things done here at home and away between feeding lambs every three-four hours, which is challenging when it's at least a 45-minute round trip to anywhere. Chores, cooking, cleaning, sleeping, part-time office job, Rick's clinic payroll, getting groceries and feed, medical appointments; I even managed to squeeze in one short ride on Stella and an agility class with Poppy this week. (I think it broke her. 😉)

I also turned out Bette and Boop with some other sheep and took some photos. It may seem like Boop has gotten 'lost in the shuffle,' but she is doing well. She and her dam still live in the barn stall, as Bette is a fiercely protective mother and would probably hurt other sheep, considering nearly everyone else is old, young, (hopefully) pregnant or recovering. She started a battle with her own dam Bree in the pasture but fortunately the green grass called.

Boop's 'plain brown wrapper' covers a top-notch specimen!

Yearling Berlin's coat desperately needed to be switched out for a larger one, so I got shots of her and her lovely fleece (already reserved). Berlin's sire is Spot, so she is the older half-sister to this year's lambs:

As close as I could get to accurate color.

Bridget is not yet showing signs of imminent lambing, so she is still hanging out with Spot in the Ram-ada Inn (with Blaise safely enclosed on her own side, still thin but vastly improved). We are down to eight hens; the two old Olive Eggers passed away in the last seven weeks. Chuckie is the same as ever, often showing up in the Sheep Sheraton for the middle-of-the-night feeding, startling sheep, hoping for attention.

That's it for the menagie at . . .