Fun fact: Goats have horizontal-shaped pupils, while cats have vertical-shaped pupils.
“Is that a cat in with the goats?” the woman inquired as she and her daughter peered through the fence. “You shouldn’t keep a cat in with your goats, at least not in close quarters like that,” she informed me, shaking her head.
“He’s not a cat,” I laughed, as we watched Comet race up the ramp and on the play stand with the other goat kids. “He’s a goat — at least he thinks he is.”
The question was always the same. Every summer when we sold the kids, well-meaning goat experts arrived and informed us that unless you’ve got a huge barn with plenty of room, cats don’t belong with goats. We had never heard of such nonsense.
Comet was a couple of years old when we rescued him from the pound and placed him with our miniature goats, hoping he’d do what cats do — keep the barn free from rodents. While the barn was tiny, the goats had an enclosed play yard fenced floor to ceiling, which kept them safe from dangerous critters.
Comet, with his mellow-golden eyes and his silky black-and-white fur, fit in perfectly with our three dwarf goats. On his first night in the barn, I checked on him, expecting to find him asleep in the loft. Instead, I found him nestled with Arby, our Nigerian dwarf, purring away. Not only did he cuddle with the goats, he played with them, ate their hay, nibbled their grains and drank from their water bucket instead of his bowl.
People had warned us the goats would butt him to death, but they didn’t. We’d also heard that during kidding season, the mothers would attack him for fear he would hurt their babies. Nope. We’d even heard that with him around we should expect a reduced milk flow come milking time. Wrong again. In fact, it was the opposite. Comet’s goat buddies trusted and loved him — after all, he seemed like a goat.
My husband had built a long wooden ramp that led to a double-tiered wooden play stand out in their play yard. Comet and the goats loved racing up the ramp as fast as they could, and jumping off the stand over and over. Sometimes, they had battles on the stand, butting each other as they played king of the hill. Comet held his own and fit right in.
Each spring, when the goats gave birth, Comet introduced the new babies to the wonderful racing and jumping game while the mother goats chewed their cud and got a much-needed break. At night, I’d often find him curled up with one of the kids instead of the mothers.
While I milked the goats, Comet patiently waited with the rest of the kids for his share of the warm, sweet milk they slurped out of the same pan. Inseparable, they had a great love for each other. Sadly, when a new set of kids got sold, Comet moped around with the mother goats that mourned their lost babies.
Throughout the years, we saved a lot of money milking and making cheese, and during those years the goats became our dear pets. Unfortunately, when the price of hay reached an all-time high, we couldn’t afford our goats anymore.
Thankfully, my husband worked with someone who had a huge field where they could eat, roam, and live out the rest of their days in a happy, peaceful place. Not only did I cry when the goats left, but poor Comet was lost without his friends. For weeks after they had gone, he searched the barn, letting out a hauntingly mournful meow that broke our hearts.
We brought Comet indoors, but he would have none of that, and so he remained in the barn. Eventually, the crying stopped, and he adopted a routine of chasing mice, watching birds, and keeping me company while I gardened.
But Comet was never the same. He resumed being a cat. As if in continuous mourning, he never raced up the ramp again. Instead, he slowly waddled up it and flopped on the play stand where he rolled over and sunbathed, begging for a belly rub. Comet’s racing days had ended.
Many years later on a sunny autumn day, Comet became ill. Suddenly too weak to walk or eat, or even lift his head, we had to carry him as the day wore on. He was going downhill quickly. With tears in my eyes, I said my final goodbyes to my old companion and thanked him for being such a wonderful friend.
As Comet struggled with his last breath, my sons arrived and said their farewells to this gentle soul who had graced our barn for so many years. None of us could imagine life without him.
After my sons finished, all eyes watched in awe as Comet raised his head, meowed, and raced up the ramp. Surrounded by love, he died on his play stand.
If humans can experience their deceased loved ones arriving and helping them transition through death, why not our sweet-spirited pets?
There is no doubt in my mind that Comet’s loving goat buddies — who had passed away long ago — had arrived and raced Comet up the beloved ramp one last time as they escorted him across the great rainbow bridge. His life could not have ended in a more beautiful or meaningful way.
Although we hated losing him and will always miss him, we rejoiced knowing that Comet — who thought he was a goat — had joined his dear goat friends once more.
~Jill Burns
