Every year, my family sacrifices one goat on Eidul Azha. So, when the time came this year, I was excitedly waiting for our goat to finally be brought home.
Like most people, we also visited cattle markets in the city to get the best goat within our budget. When we finally brought our goat home, I was overjoyed. He was a Beetal goat with hazel eyes and black fur, with a few white spots on his ears and face.
I decided to name the goat Raven because of his sleek, shiny midnight-black coat. The more time I spent with him, the more I realised he was friendly, vocal and active. I loved spending time with Raven, taking him for walks and feeding him grass and hay. He was quite a playful goat and, without a doubt, his favourite hobby was getting into mischief, which usually included munching on houseplants, toppling flowerpots and running around to avoid being caught, creating chaos wherever he went.
Raven loved my company, and I often sat beside him reading a book. Sometimes he would silently watch me from outside, through the window, as I did my daily tasks. At night, when it was time to sleep, I would hug Raven and say goodnight.
Then I would look at him through the window and wonder about the day when he would finally be gone and how I would deal with it.
I enjoyed talking to him too, for he was a great listener. To me, it seemed as if he could understand every word I spoke, because he listened so attentively, tilting his head towards me in an adorable way. We had created a special bond, formed through an unlikely friendship. I only wished Raven could have lived longer, that he did not have to die.
On the morning of Eidul Azha, I tried my best to make Raven’s last day a memorable one and to make him as happy as possible. I took Raven for one last walk, letting him roam around the garden. He pranced about, munching leaves and sniffing flowers. Then I tried to calm and reassure him. I believed he somehow knew what was about to happen, but I wanted him to be brave and not afraid. So I sat beside him and chatted with him. I even let him eat the plants in my garden, which he greatly enjoyed, devouring the leaves in no time.
Later, he sat on the porch with his head bent low, refusing to look at me despite my attempts to comfort him. I hoped Raven would understand what was about to happen and why.
When the time finally came for Raven to be sacrificed, I gave him a long hug while gently stroking his fur.
“Bye, Raven. You were such a sweet goat. I love you,” I murmured with a faint smile.
After my quiet, but heartfelt farewell, I went inside because I could not bear to hear his cries.
Although Raven’s sacrifice filled me with sadness, it also taught me the importance of showing kindness and compassion to animals.
Published in Dawn, Young World, July 4th, 2026
