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06/24/2014

A Eulogy for Frostie the Snowgoat  »

imageHi everyone. I have very sad news this morning, I just learned that Frostie, the baby goat Edgar’s Mission recently rescued, has passed away. For those of you who have been following Frostie’s story, you know it’s a story about the triumph of a bright little spirit. When Edgar’s Mission rescued Frostie, he had a terrible lice infestation, was severely dehydrated, and had a debilitating condition called joint navel ill. Frostie couldn’t walk on his own, but Edgar’s Mission was determined to save him and they outfitted him with his own wheelchair. Frostie took to the wheelchair like a champ. And, before we knew it, Frostie was walking—or more like dancing!—on his own. 

Like many people, I was taken in by Frostie’s story. I found these two gifs and sent them to everyone I know. I’ve been living off the happy vapors of these gifs for weeks now. I’m sure you can see why:

Frostie in May:
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A few weeks later:
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Sadly, Frostie would only be with us a short time. In the past 24 hours or so, Edgar’s Mission discovered Frostie was sick; not long after, the poor little guy was gone. Turns out our dear Frostie was “riddled with abscesses” along his spinal column. You can read more on Edgar’s Mission’s Facebook page. But they say it was only in his last hours that Frostie was in pain, so at least we know he probably was just as happy as he looked before then. 

I’m hesitant to say Frostie was special, because I imagine that if every little baby goat were given the chance Frostie was, they too would show us just how wonderful they are. But, as should be obvious by now, he definitely touched my heart. So I just want to thank Edgar’s Mission for saving little Frostie and introducing him to the world and I want to let Frostie know, you will be missed, little pal. My hope going forward is that you were able to open at least some hearts and teach people that all animals are worthy of love and kindness, every single last one.

I’m reminded today of one of my favorite poems (and I only have a few). It happens to be about a goat and makes me think of Frostie. I’ll leave you with that:

IT HAPPENS LIKE THIS 

I was outside St. Cecelia’s Rectory
smoking a cigarette when a goat appeared beside me.
It was mostly black and white, with a little reddish
brown here and there. When I started to walk away,
it followed. I was amused and delighted, but wondered
what the laws were on this kind of thing. There’s
a leash law for dogs, but what about goats? People
smiled at me and admired the goat. “It’s not my goat,”
I explained. “It’s the town’s goat. I’m just taking
my turn caring for it.” “I didn’t know we had a goat,”
one of them said. “I wonder when my turn is.” “Soon,”
I said. “Be patient. Your time is coming.” The goat
stayed by my side. It stopped when I stopped. It looked
up at me and I stared into its eyes. I felt he knew
everything essential about me. We walked on. A police-
man on his beat looked us over. “That’s a mighty
fine goat you got there,” he said, stopping to admire.
“It’s the town’s goat,” I said. “His family goes back
three-hundred years with us,” I said, “from the beginning.”
The officer leaned forward to touch him, then stopped
and looked up at me. “Mind if I pat him?” he asked.
“Touching this goat will change your life,” I said.
“It’s your decision.” He thought real hard for a minute,
and then stood up and said, “What’s his name?” “He’s
called the Prince of Peace,” I said. “God! This town
is like a fairy tale. Everywhere you turn there’s mystery
and wonder. And I’m just a child playing cops and robbers
forever. Please forgive me if I cry.” “We forgive you,
Officer,” I said. “And we understand why you, more than
anybody, should never touch the Prince.” The goat and
I walked on. It was getting dark and we were beginning
to wonder where we would spend the night.

-James Tate

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