By goat standards, you lived long and well. You were never friendly, preferring to keep your distance from us. Even when we would feed you sweet grain, you would shy away or try to head butt us if we attempted to pet you. Human touch you did not crave and we always tried to respect that.
In your younger years, you were the goats' go-to man, the head honcho. Everyone would follow you to graze upon green hills. Time passed and you aged, you slowed down and spent more time in the barnyard than with the goats. Your organs began to fail you and you struggled with painful bladder stones.
And then one day, you were ready to leave us, to move on. You did not want us to touch you or be with you, dying did not mean you wanted our comfort. You went in peace and with dignity and with that ever present smirk on your face.
We will miss you so much, even if we never hugged you or stroked your angora-soft hair. You had friends and lived and munched on grass and did your goatly things. People often speak of extraordinary animals, those great beings who flit in and out of our lives with their special lessons. You were extraordinarily normal and so incredibly perfect that way.
-Animal Place staff