farmdoc's blog post number 6

Back when I was a lad and AFL (then VFL) football was a sport and not a business, I barracked for Collingwood, and I wore a pint-sized guernsey with number 22 emblazoned on its back because Bob Rose, who played for the Magpies from 1946 to 1955, was my hero. He was strong, fast, courageous, fair, freakishly skilful, and undoubtedly one of the greatest players in Collingwood’s history. Fast forward to 2002: I am now the part-owner of many goats including a few of the British Alpine breed, who are all black and white. Our goats have numbered ear-tags, and one British Alpine nanny happened to receive a tag with number 22 on it. So of course I named her Rosie. Our Rosie became a favourite goat: gentle, inquisitive, affectionate, and such an amazing mother that her offspring were among our best each year. Well Bob Rose died in 2003 and Rosie died two weeks ago. My sharefarmer Sharon and I couldn’t find her among our goat herd, and so we searched and searched for her, but without success. Then last Thursday we found her carcass, about 10 metres inside a cave. She went in there to die, and she apparently died peacefully. I will miss her. And from now on, that cave will be known as Rosie’s Cave.