I have been thinking about how to write a tribute to Snoopie. It’s not easy to capture any life with words, and I am not sure it’s fair, as life is more about feelings and senses than it is about how letters are lined up on a page.
Hard to believe that we lost Snoopie.
I remember bringing her home – Kath driving, kids in the back seat, and me cradling her in my arms as we drove back home from the place where we got her. That was early summer of 2007. Snoops wasn’t “hand” or “people” raised. She was born in a field, a kid in a herd of brush goats, and more wild than tame. She never really changed. That wild streak pretty much came to define her.
As she grew older, she more or less came to represent the farm – an experience with Snoops could be unforgettable.
A cute, soft eyed, pile of soft white fur with her tail wagging like a friendly puppy wanting to be petted.
And then, “BANG”! In a split second, before one could even process what had happened, she’d have knocked the unsuspecting person in their knees. We would always warn people to beware, to not get too close, and not to get lulled into her space. She was something else - as if she had a plan – a devil in sheep’s, or rather, goat’s, clothing. Oh, she could be a terror!
But she could also be affectionate when she wanted to be. I can’t count the number of times when I would take a break from cleaning stalls out in the stable, and when I sat down, she’d come lie down next to me, as quiet and as calm and as warm hearted as could be. Looking up at me with soft brown eyes. It’s a side of her most never saw. She reserved affection for very few, but for those she did, it was hard to forget, and sometimes harder to not have.
I could go into a lot of stories here – how she broke her horns, ate a few too many flowers, how she loved to butt the wheelbarrow, how well she got along with Lou and Pat, how Zips liked to chase her, how she liked to chase the chickens, liked to chase certain people…so much more.
How she always seemed to create some kind of chaos, and then recede back into the calm. She could be the hurricane. She could be the eye. To be her weather person was always to be wrong – no one could ever predict what was coming.
That unpredictability is what I will miss most about her.
Her leaving also closes a chapter- but not the book. Lou, Zips, and Snoops were the first to come here, and now they are all gone. At least physically. Their energies and spirits are still here. Always will be. I can feel them here, still running in the fields. They are still our teachers, still helping us to grow.
I am not sad today. I am thankful. Just so lucky to have had these three come into our lives. We’ve been bitten, kicked, and butted…we’ve been licked, nuzzled, and kissed … we’ve been loved, unconditionally. And that in turn has taught us how to love. That’s something only animals can teach us. Humans can’t. Animals are always authentic.
Thanks Snoops. Thanks for being a part of our lives.
