Drying off the herd

It's well and truly done. Winter is here and the herd has been dried off, put out to pasture for the long cold months.

As you know it had been coming for a while. I was only feeding him once a day - last thing every night - just before bed. Our little cuddle, or Mum's little cuddle as it turned out, he didn't miss a thing once his access was denied. I felt pretty sad, but it helped having my parents here, for moral support ( and knowing my Mum could tell when I was tempted just to give him one more little drinkee).

So he feeds himself now - wielding his spoon and fork with high precision, drinking from his sipper cup, or tipping it out all over the floor when the mood takes him. He totally missed the bottle stage, and won't take it at all, so he's got his little cup and is as happy as a sand boy.

He'll never remember the balmy days of boobville, he will learn about it when he's older and think 'Gross', then later he'll change his mind again. I will always treasure my memories of sustaining him, the amazing antibody properties that kept him healthy, and the joy it bought us both. He has gone forever from being so physically connected to me, it was the halfway measure from being a part of me to now being apart from me.

Off you go into the world, little one. I am always here for you in other ways (out in the back paddock chewing my cud).