Sometimes the loss of a pet can only be understood by someone else who has gone through the same. How often do we heard the phrase, "My pet died," but fail to understand just what that loss means. Sure, we may feel sorry for them, but then the thought passes and we go merrily on our way. Now I am not comparing it to the loss of a child or parent, but it still hurts.

My little goat buddy Tag had to be put to sleep. I prefer that to the term 'being put down,' because of the connotations involved. 'Being put down' sounds impersonal, and also can mean something negative like someone being 'put in their place.' Whereas 'going to sleep' sounds peaceful and the hope implied of seeing that pet again someday. Maybe in Heaven? Maybe with that critter in perfect health? That is my hope.

Tag had a 'personality'. I think all animals do, once we get to know them. A farmer once told me that you can't name a farm animal because, well, you know why.

Over the years I saw Tag change as he grew older. He was spunky as a baby goat. As a 'teen' he got into mischief. One time when I was leaving for work I heard him crying. Later I felt bad when I learned that he had gotten his head stuck in the fence trying to get to that greener grass. But then Ruth said he had done the same stupid thing three more times before I got home.

As a teen he could be naughty. One time he keep headbutting me and being hit in the knee hurt. I hollered at him to stop and when he didn't I yelled real loud and swatted him on the rear end. He then just gently leaned against me as if to say he was sorry.

As a mature goat he could let me know what was on his mind. Once I was taking Dexter for a walk without him and he got out of his pen and came up and started headbutting me over and over because he was mad I didn't bring him along as well.

With age he mellowed, and he started acting like he was my dog. We would play and he would try to steal my gloves out of my back pocket. If I held out my hand and asked, "Where is my goat?" he would accept the challenge and butt my hand. If I played dead he would come up and nudge me as if to say, "Get up."

When he turned 12 the vet said that was old for a goat. Maybe a year or two later he started getting arthritis in his right hind leg. We no longer had to put a harness on him when we let him graze in the front yard with Dexter our donkey as all he wanted to do was eat dandelions and weeds instead of bothering Dexter.

A few years later his joints must have really hurt at times so we would give him a pill wedged between a cracker with a dab of peanut butter. He still tried to get around sort of dragging one leg, but he still enjoyed life. Sometimes he would just lay in his shelter in summer so I ran out an extension cord to a small desk top fan. We didn't think he would make it through this last winter so we insulated his shelter walls with extra straw. He survived alright for it seemed that the cold days were his better ones.

He turned 18 on April 1st, which we thought him being born on April Fool's Day appropriate. But now the arthritis was getting bad on both his hind legs and with the warm weather came the flies. He wasn't even trying to shake them off anymore. He barely ate even though we went through a lot of trouble mixing in sunflower seeds, carrots, apple, granola, and crackers in with his hay pellets. While he was picking at his food I would try to make sure he had fresh water and fluffed up hay for him to lay in. I spent far more time in the morning with him than with Dexter, and donkeys can poop a lot!

So we made the hard decision and called the vet. I was in tears as he lay there drained of life. I buried him myself. It was some time later that I realized that it seemed that the bigger the sacrifice you make for a pet, the more it hurts when they leave. So the same thing applies to people. The closer you are, the more you miss them.

Someday when if and when I lose my Ruth or child the only thing that will sustain me is the belief that I will someday see them again. Until then I will live my life in that great hope.

Do pets go to heaven? I would like to think that an Almighty God that can raise me up and replace every hair on my head could also do the same for a loving pet. After all, He originally gave them live to begin with, didn't He?