So Long Zorro...

I've only had to do it a couple of times in my life, but early this morning the boy and I dug a grave.   His goat Zorro didn't make it through the night.   We gave him all the medicine we could. We made a cozy, dry place in the shelter with the chickens while the rain poured, we kept a charcoal fire burning to keep him warm, and with Logan's best showering towel we swaddled him.  
Dr. Paul, a missionary vet who is a friend, came and even gave him an IV and an injection.  The girl goat, Oreo, cuddled with him all night while he rested his head on her shoulder, but in the end it just wasn't enough. 

Two Haitians that we've prayed would come to know the Lord came out to help us dig.  I'm not sure they appreciated why we would talk about a goat so lovingly, or pray over him with a small family funeral, or even bury him, but we trust the Lord will somehow use this experience.   The Haitians certainly understand the economical impact of losing a goat.  Here it can carry grave consequences, and it would be similar to losing your wages for a month or two.   It could mean the family can't afford for a child to attend the next school year.  

My boy's reflection is how I will remember him..."He's with God now, eating the very best shrubs."   I think that's quite fitting.  Zorro is keeping God's grass down out by the gates of Heaven.   We'll try our best to look after Oreo for him in the mean time.