There are people in this world that are made to handle emergency situations and handle them well. Where on earth would we be without our first-responders, fire-fighters, policemen, doctors, nurses and kindergarten teachers?
Then there are people like me, who run and hide at the first hint of crisis.
Last night we loaded two trailers of calves to go to the sale. The first trailer load went off without incident. The second...not so much. I hate those babies getting squished in those trailers anyway, it always raises my blood pressure. The second trailer had a much slicker floor which caused a couple of the calves to fall down and get trampled.
It was at this point that I found my way out of the corral and down the road to let the guys figure out what to do.
I played with the dogs on the back of Mr. Cattle Hauler's truck, I plugged my ears when I heard anything that sounded like a calf in distress, I texted Taylor, I started humming, I sucked my thumb and wadded up in a ball until it was over.
I'm happy to say that everybody was ok.
Then this morning I went out to feed the goats and poor ol' Salty was in bad shape. She had a kid yesterday morning and went about her business like nothing was amiss. I figured she would have twins but she just had the one and appeared to be finished. Well, she wasn't. The other baby has still not been delivered and I will spare you the gory details of what all that implies.
Now ol' Salty, she's old. She has facial hair, she takes her time getting up and down, she could use a tuck here and there, and she would probably benefit greatly by wearing some sort of girdle. Lord knows, I'm the only one that loves that ol' girl.
So when I found her this morning in the shape she was in, I panicked. I started calling people and running around like crazy trying to figure out what to do to save the poor dear. As of now, she has had a shot of penicillin and a shot of some horrible drug that will make her labor intensify and hopefully allow her to pass... (sigh) ...what is left to pass.
Baby number 1 is tiny. Rodney and I both think that baby number 2 may have already been deceased and caused ol' Salty to go in to labor early. He seems strong and has nursed quite energetically. There is a chance that I may be raising this one myself. Only time will tell what will become of ol' Salty.
As for me, I've eaten a bag of skittles at a dizzying pace, followed by a roll of sweet-tarts and I'm thinking about baking some cookies. I've got a mountain of laundry to keep me busy and hopefully will have some good news by the end of the day.
Everyone is anxious to see what will become of ol' Salty. Bless her little heart.