They say there are seven stages of grief. Initially, psychologists believed there to be five, theorised in 1969 by Swiss Psychologist Elizabeth Kubler-Ross. She attempted to classify the different emotions and thoughts people experience after losing someone they love. Two other stages were added in modern time strengthening the model.

The stages listed are shock and disbelief, denial, guilt, anger and bargaining, depression, loneliness and reflection and working through and acceptance. Whilst these emotions and thoughts can vary between people, and depending on the circumstance involved, it is pretty much a proven model and those of us going through grief will experience all of them in some way shape or form. We now know, and completely accept, that such grief of loss is not limited to humans.

People quite often suffer extreme grief upon the loss of an animal or pet. Likewise, it has similarly been proven that animals themselves experience grief upon the loss of those close to them. Most people will have heard of an animal becoming despondent, subdued, depressed when a fellow animal passes away. We have all read and seen the stories of grieving dogs refusing to leave the burial site of their passed parent. Grief does not discriminate; it is there for a reason.

Any psychological doctor will tell you that grief is healthy, that it must be experienced in order to get over the shock and move forward, even if that grief begins with anger. As sanctuary founders and workers, we, and all people involved with Furever Farm, will experience all or part of the above grief model at some stage. Loss, in the rescue and sanctuary arena, is frequent and unavoidable. To talk of it on 'paper' is easy, almost flippant in its description. It is extremely difficult to place feelings and emotions on 'paper', they rarely fully describe their intensity. But we must try, for our own sanity and from a moral obligation.

Usually, when we are grieving in a sanctuary it is due to the loss of an animal. All animals are dear to us and hold a special place in our hearts. No one animal is ever thought of as being more important than another, or superior in deserving our love. Having said that, there ARE those 'special special' animals. Animals that you spend a far greater amount of time with for many a reason. Animals that you have been to hell and back with, sat with and nursed through illness, injury and surgery. You come to know this animal inside out and have this kind of parental bond such is the compassion you feel because of their rough life. At Furever Farm we have several of these animals. Recently, we lost one of these exact 'special' animals. This animal did not live in the paddocks of others but rather roamed the general area of the farm with a couple of other special needs babies. This animal had his fair share of debilitating illness, scary encounters, near misses and required surgeries. This animal had the fight, the strength and tenacity amongst his tiny, gentle, loving frame to beat and overcome everything that had been thrown at him through life. Of course, you will know, we talk about the beautiful Lambert.

Lambert would come to Furever Farm less than a week old. So tiny and exceptionally cute he would be accompanied by a close friend, Apple. These two bubbas would be hand-reared, like many before them. Inside, bottle-fed and kept warm and comfy throughout infancy. They were amazing, as all animals are. The love they draw right out of you in an instant is indescribable. It is truly a feeling that every person on earth should feel. If they did, the world would be a far different place. But with the cuteness and beauty came the ailments that so many of these babies suffer. With no colostrum from mum, missing out on mother's nutrients, they are behind the eight ball from the start. Oh, the devastating losses we have suffered of babies just getting started in life and struck down with life-threatening illness from which they simply cannot recover. Feelings of exhilaration and joy are swiftly replaced with heartbreak, helplessness and depression in the blink of an eye.

Lambert, and later Apple, would be hit with a lamb's scariest illness, pneumonia. This heavy chest and lung infection is the killer of people let alone tiny little lambs. How can such a tiny body with minimal strength and fight overcome what is a savage infection? Oh, you would be surprised by the tenacity of these beings. They know how to fight. Their life is only just starting and they, like us, do not want to die. Both Lambert and Apple would overcome this ailment and, barely recovered, Lambert would begin having screaming episodes of scour and gut infection. We treated this, we did everything that could be done but, even when the scour stopped, he would cry out in the middle of the night with painful fits. This would be an on again off again trial for dear Lambert with us and vets doing all they could. This little man simply had a condition that could only be treated so much. The rest was up to him and his slowly strengthening body. This would go on during Lambert's time inside and into his outdoor pen life. We would lay inside and at night and hear Lambert occasionally crying. Remember that helpless feeling? We would, and we had done all we could.

Not long into Lambert and Apple's outdoor life, both would develop scabs on their mouths. Uninformed from the party where these two came from, Lambert and Apple had been around a flock that was experiencing a spread of scabby mouth disease. Much like a human cold sore, these scabs would spread around the lips and onto surrounding areas; nose, outer lips, inner mouth etc. Treated very easily the disease still must run its course. Eventually, it will correct but it is a highly contagious disease, often dropping fragments into the soil where other animals can contract the disease. These infections have the potential to 'live' in the soil for many years proving a potential problem for paddock animals. As other lambs had entered our care, they too became infected all for the simple reason of us not being informed upon taking in the two carriers. In the end, all cases were isolated and Lambert and Apple recovered well. All the while Lambert's gut issues were still evident but, as he grew the frequency declined.

Lambert would suffer a disaster in his life which would see him, as a young lamb, go through his version of the grief stages. Out of nowhere his little buddy, Apple, would be struck down with an unexpected chest infection. Like a bolt from the sky, we were shocked as we watched this once vibrant boy slide into limpness in a heartbeat. Again, oh how we tried, but this time we could not win his fight. Apple passed away suddenly and broke a lot of hearts, Lambert's included. Lambert would again become so clingy, so needy and just didn't want to be out of our sight. We took Lambert under our wing again as the indescribable bond we would form got stronger and stronger.

Lambert would continue to grow, but his stature would remain small and slight. Because of his poor start to life, missing important mother's nutrition, Lambert would be a stunted growth sheep. So much was this so we often referred to him as 'Lambert the Lamb Sheep'! To us, he was always our little lamb. He would gain a new friend in a lamb called Grace. For some time, they would be inseparable as they grew together and, eventually progressed to the big sheep yard.

Lambert would spend less than a year within Lizzie's Paddock. In that time, he was somewhat of a loner, occasionally mixing with the others but preferring to be around the smaller sheep such as Annabelle. With Grace growing into a full-size sheep, Lambert looked for other suitors and when the 'black sheep of the family' arrived, he had found his calling. Lambert and Annabelle would become quite close, in fact, they were to be adopted together at one stage but this would fall through. Happy enough to be with Annabelle, Lambert had finally found his solace within a large area.

As had been the case throughout poor Lambie's life, as soon as something good came to him something bad would take it away. This time it would happen to Lambert himself as an illness would, again, rob him of happiness. Walking into the paddock, by chance, one evening we would hear the screams of an animal. This was no scream we had heard before but rather a gut-churning scream. We searched and quickly found Lambert stuck, unable to move, calling out for us in pain and agony. Immediately we would pick Lambert up and take him to the sickbay. Examining him it was clear he was struggling to urinate and defecate, spasming and writhing as his body heaved to relieve him. Lambert was rushed to the vet where an ultrasound was applied. We felt a large mass towards the base of his penis and the scan showed a mass that had also travelled his urethra, splitting it in places. Lambert was in pain. He was diagnosed with bladder crystals, a large mass of them so big that damage to his internals had occurred. He needed the crystals removed quickly.

Lambert was left at the vet overnight as we went back to the farm feeling helpless once more. The recommendation was that Lambert receives surgery to remove the mass, repair the urethra and fix the blockage. Unfortunately, this would mean shutting off Lambert's use of his natural penis and reconstructing a new urinary outlet at the rear of Lambert's body, much like a ewe's function. This meant anaesthetic, something that is very dangerous in ruminant animals. No guarantee could be given that Lambert would survive the surgery. But we have already seen the fight and strength of this boy! He was a trooper and, once again, he would defy all expectations. When we collected Lambert the following day, we were told that he sailed through, and ten minutes after coming out of the anaesthetic he was wailing to go home!

Lambert would continue to prove just how much punch a little body can have as he experienced no hiccups at all throughout his recovery from such a major operation. He accepted and used his new 'bits' without complication or unrest. People would marvel at the new Lambert, at just what can be done with veterinary science nowadays. Lambert would go along fine before we noticed one minor drawback to the new structure. Having a tail, a beneficial natural part of a sheep, proved, this time, to be an issue as Lambert urinated and his unnatural setup would hit his tail and splash onto his hind legs. This left the wool of the tail and legs constantly wet, blackening and in danger of urine scald. Unfortunately, this meant another operation for our poor boy. Lambert would re-enter the surgery to have three-quarters of his tail removed to combat his situation. A relatively quick surgery, Lambert was back at the farm, stitches intact and going about his business in record time. Now, when he urinated, he was splash-free and his legs would only require cleaning periodically.

Lambert was now very much an 'around the general area sheep' bonding instantly with the gorgeous Betty and Thyme. On a couple of occasions, he went back into Lizzie's Paddock to see his old friends but simply didn't want to stay there, instead loving our company and that of his two best friends. The bond he formed with Betty and Thyme was amazing. They were simply the most lovable trio. You would have thought them to all be the same age and always having been together. Animals are amazing creatures. Their acceptance and love far outweighs the human equivalent.

Of course, our love, and the love of our team, grew every day. We had brought this baby up for 2 years and 2 months. We rode every bump with Lambert and we went through the good and bad with him. We willed him, we fought with him, we gave everything along with him to beat every obstacle. Our love was that of a pet dog and a parent, we adored him to the point that adoration simply had no further to go. At this point in his life, we thought that all was finally over. No more illness, no more operations, no more pain, the suffering of worry. Lambert could now just relax and enjoy the life that he, and all his kind deserved. He would prove how clever and smart he was, shape and colour deciphering during sessions with a behaviourist student. He would, on his own, destroy and smash the myth of 'dumb sheep'.

Throughout all of this illness and pain it is easy to forget that Lambert had so much joy in his life. The love he felt and the love he gave was so special there is simply no word to describe it. His happiness was infectious and his cheekiness simply divine. The vision of Lambert running towards you simply because he wanted to be near you was beautiful and heartening. His little playful hop and skip as he ran, his little head flicking from side to side in excitement and his calling was gorgeous. Have you seen a happy, playful sheep? It is like nothing you have ever seen before and Lambert was just so damn cute. His running up to steal grain or hay when he saw you carrying a bucket of pulling a trolley, so cheeky. Lambert just loved to join us and the team in the “volllie room” and see what was on offer. Food? Head scratches? Or simply coming in to lay under that table, amongst the legs and stay with people. Often, Lambert would become so comfortable in this room around people he would just relax, close his eyes and go to sleep. He loved to be around you. He was certainly a people’s lamb sheep! And then….

Tuesday, December 15 will be etched in our memories and hearts for the rest of our lives. We have always said that even farm animals are extremely unlucky if ever bitten by snakes. Usually, snakes keep away. They know the animals are there and prefer to live their lives away from company. We would do as we have done every morning for 5 years at Furever Farm. We would go to Lilah's Pen to let out whichever animals may be sleeping in there at any time. Betty, Thyme and Lambert were sharing the pen at this stage. Betty and Thyme would exit. We would look for Lambert. There he was, motionless except for painful, heavy breathing. "What's wrong baby?" we would ask to no response. We would try to move Lambert. He was not moving. His eyes were shut tight and we would have to physically open them to check for signs. We would receive a sign when touching his eyes, they would move but it was the only body part to be moving. We attempted to lift Lambert up. His body was rigid, his legs unable to stand even when motioned. We examined Lambert, pressure points, stomach. He displayed pain in his abdomen. Two of us picked Lambert up and loaded him into a vehicle straight away letting the vet know we were coming with a very sick sheep. The vet knew Lambert, they had kept him alive last they met. We would pull up outside the clinic and the vet, waiting to examine Lambert, took a heartbeat. Lambert's heart was beating, but his breathing had dropped dangerously low and he could no longer keep his head up. We suggested, "could this be a bite?", the vet agreed it was and we gave permission for them to start drawing anti-venom. 60 seconds. That is the amount of final time we had with Lambert after this point. We, again, opened his eyelids. Lambert took a pained look, a look none the less, the vet returned and we said that we thought he was going. As we made this comment Lambert passed away in front of us. We allowed the vet to give confirmation before breaking down and leaning in, hugging our boy one last time and telling him we loved him, we were sorry.

We expressed emotion in front of many people that day. We just couldn't contain it. We cried onto his beautiful wool as we said goodbye. Our beautiful, loving Lambert lay before us, his life now gone. It is a period of disbelief. You have tears streaming down your face but in your head, it's fighting to block the reality. The vet expressed their genuine sorrow and we now had to take Lambert back to Furever Farm and lay him to rest.

We spent over 24 hours in tears such was the gravity that hit us. How can this be? Lambert? How can our baby, who has been at our feet for 2 years, be gone? How the hell did he get bitten? Why did he get bitten? Why that? The poor boy had been through so much, so much discomfort and, now, that was meant to be over. Instead, he dies so painfully. As Lambert was lowered into his final resting place we would look. We didn't want to look away. We didn't want to cover him. This would be the very last time we would get to see our wonderful boy. But it must be done. We buried Lambert right next to the lamb's burial garden, and right next to where we sleep, under the shade of the gumtree. Making sure his grave was perfect took our minds off of sadness for a brief period but as soon as we stop, so the memories of that fateful day reappear in our mind’s eye.

We think of Lambert every day. We feel depressed and numb as we write this. Our sadness is still tinged with tears. He was such a special boy. His memory will last forever and eventually, we hope, the sadness and crushing lows are replaced with joy and love as we remember Lambert for the gorgeous soul he was.

And so, we get back to the stages of grief and their non-structured nature. We feel them all, just in our own way. They are real and the psychologists are correct. Grief also takes time and it is open. There are no limits and no rules that state why you may be suffering. All we know is they are genuine. We have felt them many times, this time is shattering.

If love needed a face, if gentleness needed an example, if joy needed a vehicle, if memory needed a creator........it would be Lambert.

We love you gorgeous boy.

R.I.P. Lambert

14 September 2018 - 15 December 2020