Funeral of a goat

We lost our first goat Friday. It was a mostly Spanish with a little boer mixed in. It slowly began falling behind the rest of the herd when they'd move from field to field, not much but it was always last. After a couple of weeks of being the last goat it quite going with her herd at all. Well this is unherd of. (that was humor) It would stay around the barn and bleat at me when it could see me. It was still eating and drinking, but the other goats would butt it when it would join the them. Our inexperience caught up with us when Kristi noticed that the goats eyelids were white. That's bad and it's a sign of worms. At this point the goat had stopped eating. We ran to the store and got some worming concentrate. I gave her a double dose but it was too late to help. I saw her at about 3:30 when I gave the chickens their afternoon scratch. She was down on the ground with her tongue sticking out and bleating. I tried to help her get some water but she wouldn't take any. I went out again at 7 to close the guinea coop and she was gone. Saturday morning we had a little funeral procession involving a little red wagon, a couple a shovels a golf cart, some gloves and a lot of digging. A goat requires a pretty big hole. It was a sad day around the farm.