Went out to feed the goats this morning and smallest goat Robyn, who technically belongs to a neighbour, presented a face covered in blood and ooze. EERRK She has almost completely torn off her lower eyelid and it's flapping around [ gag]
I can't get hold of her to clean it up [ this is the one that we sometimes call Harriet Houdini for her ability to undo any collar] but the eyeball seems ok... just yuck.
Owner Pete duly came over to have a look but we're talking typical country bloke with that 'she-be-right' attitude to livestock. So no calling a vet.
She's still eating and drinking thank goodness but I feel squeamish everytime I look at the poor little beggar.
I guess this is the downside of living the rural idyll.
and no, I won't subject you to a photo.
Bellydancing and quilting today.