07/24/2025
A day I knew was coming, but hoped not so soon. On Tuesday, I laid my best girl to rest. That old goat, the matriarch, Her Royal Highness, Princess Fiona. I wrestled with the decision, questioned myself a thousand times. But her quality of life had slipped beyond what I could fix anymore, and she let me know she was tired. So I gave her rest—the final act of love I could offer, through tears.
She made it 13 incredible years. When she first came to me, the vet didn’t think she’d make it through the night, but she had other plans. Her will to live was unshakable, and not only did she survive that night, she gave me six more unforgettable years.
She taught me everything I know about goats—through every high and low. What a beautiful life she lived, and what a gift it was to share even a part of it with her. She was deeply loved, well cared for, and thoroughly spoiled.
I’ll miss how she always answered when I called her name, how she’d quietly watch me do chores, and how she’d roam by herself. Never causing trouble—just happy to nibble on weeds near the woods. That’s where she rests now, in the place she loved most. Without a doubt, she was one of my most cherished residents here. This is a tough one. She left behind a piece of herself for me to keep loving, her daughter, Maisy.
I gathered every photo I could find from the old archived group and am tucking them into her album before they are lost. I like to imagine heaven has sturdy livestock tube gates—maybe they’re white. And when my time comes, I’ll be welcomed by every soul I’ve ever loved, human and animal alike. But Fiona will be at the front, head through the gate, just like always—waiting to greet me home.