Cookie Doe

Over three years ago, I took a trip to a goat farm. Their does were pregnant and I was interested in buying a couple of babies. Note the last photo in that post, which is this one:

The first photo I ever posted of Clover. I had felt partial to her right away when I visited the farm. At the time, of course, I had no thought of buying Clover. Their does weren’t for sale–they were going to be selling the babies.

After the babies were born, I visited again and they offered me the chance to buy Clover with her two babies.

You see little Nutmeg here:

Since I’d fallen in love with Clover from the beginning, I was only too happy to take her home!

In the time since, Pete and Missy have been great mentors to me in learning how to take care of goats. They are the first people I call when I have a question or concern. I think it might be more upsetting to me than to them that they decided to sell their herd. Like it rocks my world or something. But you can live without goats? How? Are you sure? HOW WILL YOU SURVIVE?

It’s so disturbing! Almost like they’re taking my goats away, too! Oh, wait….. This is really not about me, is it?

Pete and Missy have purebred Nigerian Dwarf goats for sale. (Location, West Virginia.) If you’re interested, you can find out how to contact them for more info here.

Back to Cookie Doe! Cookie Doe is Clover’s sister. She’s famous for having quad deliveries.

And looking like that. She’s going to make Nutmeg feel really good about herself.

I can’t get enough of that picture. She takes after her aunt. (Sorry, Nutmeg!)

As soon as I found out that Pete and Missy were selling, I knew I had to try to get Cookie Doe. That she is a mass producer is a good point, but that she is Clover’s sister is more important. I had a sentimental attachment to the idea of bringing them together. Pete and Missy were selling a number of does on Monday, which meant it was a good time for me to pick up Cookie Doe while they were already in the field loading.

Cookie Doe, not realizing her life is about to change, and looking heavily pregnant already. The earliest she could be due is October.

They have had a buck running with the does for a few months now so they could sell the does bred. The buck’s name is Romeo.

Does lined up for the selection committee (comprised of a family that was there picking out goats).

Admiral, their Great Pyr, stressing over the departures of his girls.

He’ll have to settle for guarding their granddaughter’s pony now.

I suggested he could do what my guard dog does. Sit on the porch.

One at a time, they loaded goats into the family’s trailer.

While I threw myself to the ground, pounded my fists on the gravel road, and cried, “You can’t take Pete and Missy’s goats!” Or maybe that was Admiral.

And then it started pouring down rain, just as we got Cookie Doe loaded into the back of my Explorer, so I headed home. We barely got her into the car in the carrier, by the way. I think she broke the bottom of the carrier. I’m lucky she didn’t break the bottom of my car.

Once I got her home, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about her. Cookie Doe had practically done backflips in protest when they took her out of the yard, and it had taken two men to get her into the back of my vehicle.

I considered whether she might be able to live in the back of my Explorer and what I would have to do to make that happen. I could bring her bowls of food and water and a box of hay. I could leave the windows down. It could work!

Then I went inside and called Morgan. Because she’s so much more competent than me. After we got Cookie Doe into the goat yard (without incident and without even breaking anything!), Morgan–who was still sleeping when I left and had no idea what I was doing–stared down into the goat yard and asked,”Why do we have this fat goat?”

And she didn’t even mean Nutmeg! That’s gonna take some getting used to!

Everybody checked her out.

The babies tried to milk her. (Not successfully.)

There was a surprising lack of head-butting or other pecking order maneuvering created by her arrival.

This may be too good to last.

And Clover may be thinking about rolling her over the hill.

But as long as I keep letting Clover eat on the porch–

–Cookie Doe’s probably safe!