At some point in our short association with Ms. Billy I looked at her and wondered what was going on with her udders. They were filling up and she was starting to produce milk. The funny thing was that I even took her to the animal clinic where they asked if she could be pregnant.
"Nah," I told the vet. "Couldn't be," I told myself.
But then started noticing how she was more round in the middle. It dawned on me where she had been before she was given to us. She was one of two goats that had been picked up on the streets of Tooele. The other was male. They were in the same pen. Once I thought that through, I realized there was a real possibility of her being pregnant.
As I watched, I became more convinced by the day, and watched her more closely. One night something clued me in that she might be close (I don't even remember what now). But I checked on her the first thing next morning.
Other than my wedding day and the births of my children there are two events in my life that are more magical than any other. The first time I saw fireflies and the the morning I laid my eyes on those baby goats. I'll tell you, it was like magic.
From that day forward my kids wanted to spend every moment in that goat pen loving those babies. I could hardly get them to come in the house. Of course I was usually out there with them. They thought they were so clever to name the babies Annie Oakley and Billy the Kid.
As magic as that day was, the day that followed was devastating. I remember just as vividly, opening that door to man appointed to deliver the notice that informed us that we could not keep the goats. After he left, I sobbed. I don't remember when I finally brought myself to tell the children. I just remember feeling like somebody had yanked my moment of magic harshly from beneath my feet.
