Not everyone gets to rest in peace.

Lazarus' death was interrupted when Sadie dog found his small, dying goat body in the long grass by the pungas at the back of the hay paddock. In the face of death, we did not have the courage to assist him. So instead we made a goat bed by the fire and prolonged Lazarus' death struggle by a week, feeding the little life left in him with tinctures made from recipes found in strange corners of goat husbandry forums on the internet.

We haggled with death and interpreted each minor improvement of Lazarus' condition as encouragement for our task. Until one long day we left Lazarus alone with death while out parading horses at a local equestrian event. We wrapped him up warm on the porch, too warm perhaps, and death did not waste the opportunity. The next morning, the little goat let out a series of ungodly groans before drawing his last breath in our lap.

To process our grief, we used the custom of a small burial ritual attended by us and the dogs. We did intend for Lazarus to rest in peace. We would have said those words out loud, possibly several times.

A week later Lazarus' remains were dug up and strewn around the driveway by Sadie dog and her culprit city dog mate, Tracey Bong. Whether this disturbed his rest, I can only speculate. We know too little of death to understand. What I strongly suspect however, is that wishes for a peaceful rest serve only the living, who are concerned with things such as keeping bodies intact. The dead may not care. My wish for the dead is that they do not have to care, about any worry of the world, anymore.