LIBBY 05/10/2012 Libby was a sweetie. A really special girl. She had a personality, and her hair had a special curl. She loved my Chuck, and he loved her, She loved when he would just stroke her fur. Then Chuck got hurt, and he could not see, His favorite goat, our sweet Libby. Then after a while, Chuck was okay, And they reunited one warm spring day. He called Libby, and she called him, and my eyes overflowed as she ran to him. Both so happy, together again, a man and his goat, his wonderful friend. Then I got hurt, and we had to sell, SO many goats, it was really hell. Libby went to a farm, right up the road, and I taught all I could, and then she was sold. Then recently, the guy came to me, and told me poor Libby, was sick as could be. I went to their farm, and saw our poor gal, She was almost dead, her gums were so pale. Her eyelids were white, she was so close to death, She was nothing but bones, she had nothing left. I burst into tears, upon seeing our gal, Who not long ago, was my Chuck's closest pal. She looked up at me, and I looked down at her, As I looked into her eyes, and stroked her soft fur, She seemed to perk up, and she ate some grass, For selling her, I felt like such an ass. I taught them the ropes, I thought that they knew, That I was available, to help them through. They just did not listen, and so did not ask, For help with poor Libby-thought too much to ask. I brought Libby home, and helped her along, Tho I doubted that she, would survive very long. At least she was home, at the farm she was born, She was loved, very much. Here she would be mourned. Libby died the next morning, in my loving arms. The same arms that held her, the day she was born.