Anxiety off the charts.
Major avoidance happening.
Not a first date. (Or last date.)
Not a meeting with an intense boss.
Not even close.
It's time to give Maisy her shots.
When she's sick (like yesterday) and you have an experienced vet on hand it looks like anyone could do it. A total novice. A kid. A trembling pregnant lady.
Then tonight rolls around and she's got her spunk back. So when Josh goes to stick her in her rump just standing in the stall she jumps away and bellows. Well that's not how it looked when the vet did it!
New plan: grab her halter and wrangle her into the milking stand, tie her 2 different ways and then use our combined weight to pin her against the wall. Josh gets the shot in her rump with minimal lurching. Then it's my turn - I'm by her head so I need to give her the one in the neck.
Grab fold of skin.
Place needle against her fur.
Jab the needle into her skin.... Wait.
Jab! Jab!! JAB!
This isn't how it usually goes.
The needle will. not. go. in.
Josh steps in to take a turn. Repeat. Nothing.
What the hell?!
I try again. I remember my sister's words: you're not hurting her you're just annoying her.
In! Depress the medicine (roughly the consistency of corn syrup, which makes it harder). Step back and realize you're done. Phew. Walk Maisy back to her stall.
Try not to think about how you'll be back doing it again in 23 hours and 58 minutes. And for the next 5 days after that.
Then check in on the brand new baby goats in the next pen. You know, the ones you helped clean up and get to nursing right after birth.
Close the barn door for the night and head in.
Feel just a little bit like a bad-ass farm girl.
It's just a usual Wednesday around here.