Rarely do I write about details of my family, but I believe this incident deserves special mention. This story involves my son David, daughter-in-law Mindy and granddaughters Sydney, 7, and Carly, 5. All of them are quite avid animal lovers. Their menagerie an Angus cow herd, dogs, cats, and the latest addition, two tiny kid goats.

Sydney and Carly had a black cat named Phoebe. Phoebe was one of the girls' most dear pets. She had a shiny, midnight black coat and was very loving, purring around the girls as they played in the yard. Everyone assumed that, like most farm cats, Phoebe had nine lives.

My story begins with David picking the girls up after school for the long Easter weekend. Upon arriving home, they saw on the road, at the end of their driveway, the remains of Phoebe. Carly and Sydney were totally distraught. David figured this was a good time to talk to the girls about life, just as I had with him and his brother, Allen, back when they were youngsters, after their dog, Randy, was killed on the road. He also reminded them about the importance of staying away from the road.

They then dug a grave, put a potted flower on it and had a funeral for Phoebe.

Three days later, David and the girls pulled in the driveway, and into the garage. Sitting on the chest freezer was Phoebe. She looked and purred as peaceful as ever. Immediately, Carly exclaimed to her Dad, “Phoebe’s come back from the dead just like in the Easter story!”

Both girls were exuberant that Phoebe was back! No one knew where she had been, but everyone was happy.

Here is the rest of the story, as Paul Harvey would have said.

A couple of weeks after Phoebe returned, I visited David and his family to surgically dehorn their newly arrived kid goats, then just three weeks old. Goat dehorning is best accomplished before the horn buttons poke through the skin. It must be done carefully, usually with an electrically heated dehorning device that destroys the horn growth cells in the skin of the skull without causing thermal damage to the brain.

I anesthetized the kid goats so they wouldn’t feel pain. Dehorning, under anesthesia, takes about 15 seconds per horn.

But anesthesia on a 15-pound kid goat is ticklish business. Only a couple drops of anesthesia, administered intravenously, is required for such a small animal.

David assisted as I gave each kid goat the miniscule amount of anesthesia. Naturally, both of my grandkids watched intently. The kid goats were out within minutes, and I dehorned them quickly and painlessly.

After I finished the procedure, I was somewhat concerned. The kid goats were really in a deep slumber and showed no signs of waking up. I told Carly and Sydney that we might as well go eat while the kid goats recovered. I tried to keep from them my concern that they were in a deeper sleep than I intended.

I had brought only a few supplies for the project. I hadn’t come in my vet truck that’s stocked for farm visits. So, I didn’t have an antidote with me to reverse the effects of the anesthesia. Out of earshot of the girls David said, “Dad, you are going to have some explaining to do if you killed those girls’ kid goats.” I told him, “I know, I know.”

Apparently, Carly and Sydney sensed our concern. Carly told me, “Don’t worry, Grandpa Easter is coming. In three days they will come back from the dead.”

But after dinner we checked on them, and they ran out to greet the girls and to be fed.