I have had goats for several years. Before, I had a herd of 20-30 grade goats. Grade meaning mutt. Now, I have 12 registered Mini-Nubians. Not that I think grade or registered is significant.
Though I will say that I have always preferred mongrol dogs over papered ones. They seem to be more loyal and have less health issues.
Anyway. I have always fed my goats grain at night, meaning once a day. Then, when they kid and I am ready to milk, my does get a little extra grain in the morning. Never ever had a problem with it. Until now.
Tillie is my best milker but she eats like a pig. So she gets a little more grain than my other milkers just to keep her occupied while I finish milking.
The other day my MIL is here and asks if Tillie is pregnant again. I look and, you know what, she is bigger, ALOT bigger.
I talked to some wonderful people online and figure out that she had gotten Bloat from the extra grain.
Now, bloat, as far as I can tell is the same gassy stomach that we get when we eat food we know we shouldn't. But aparently goats don't pass gas the way we do. North or South. Also, bloat can cause their tummies to get so big that is crushes their lungs and the quit breating and die.
Scary time! 
But my online friends tell me just what to do. I had a bottle of gator aid (electrolytes are always good) that was about 1/4 full and i put 6 heaping tablespoons of baking soda in it. Then, I have these cute little 8oz glass jars with wide mouths on them. So, I filled one up with pepto and one up with plain old vegetable oil. I grabbed all three of those and a 12cc syringe, minus the needle of course, and down to the barn I go.
I lock Tillie and I in the barn and she rips the door down getting back out. Ok. Change of strategy. I put all my supplies on the top of the wall by the door, grab a piece of twine and go get said goat again. I get her in the barn again and tie the door up with the fore mentioned twine and I stand there. Get the syringe and fill it with 'Gator Soda'. I procede to wrap my arm around Tillie's head and place the syringe in the corner of her mouth and slowly depress the plunger. I think she got half of it. Maybe.
I was told to give 60cc's of each. Math time. 60/12=5. Ug. 5x3=15 Double UG! I'm supposed to get 15 full syringes of stuff down this poor goats gullet and I am all alone with a broken barn door. Ok. Syringe number 2. I decide to give all the Gator Soda at once. Another syringe full and another wrestling match. I think she got half again. Oh. In between each syringe I need to massage her rumen in clockwise circles to help in digestion.
To make a long story short (gator aid is fruit punch flavored), I don't think she gets the whole 180cc's she supposed to and she and I are both pink oily messes. But she has learned to belch like a well seasoned trucker surving off of every greasy spoon that calls itself a truck stop and boy does it stink. But she looks normal again and I am happy. Yea Right.
I keep checking on her and all seems well until around 6. She looks like a beach ball and sounds like one too when you thump her belly. Back to the house to get the supplies. Back to the barn. She wants NOTHING to do with me at this point. She goes in the barn and wedges herself under my built in milk stand. She's stuck! Now what? I try every thing and so does she. The only one home is my 10 year old. Ok. Grab her back legs and gently but firmly slide her out. She's out! Yea me! (small victory dance) She's out the barn door too.
Finally get her back in and get meds down her throat and i have oil and pepto and gator soda from head to toe and her face is a nice shade of pink. Nothing. No burping. No shrinking of tummy. I go in the house frustrated. I go online and ppl tell me "good job" "keep it up" and I feel like crying. Back down to the barn.
Now I can tell her side is getting sore from me massaging it so much and she won't stand still and I can't blame her but it's for her own good. Right?
I get mad at her because she's dancing around so much and i grab her tail and drag her butt back around to reaching distance. (I was sitting on a stool.) Then I feel guilty for being so rough with her and just hug her neck and pet her. (I love my goats. I love my goats. I love my goats.) I get another round of meds into her and put a collar on her and we walk. Up the pasture. Down the pasture. Up the pasture. Down the pasture. Up...well you get the picture. Still nothing.
I'm in tears. My goat is going to die. I am doing all I know to do. Nothing is working. I let her go and go in the house and cry. I figured enough is enough. I am just gonna keep an eye on her. Every hour all night. (sleep? what's that?) (I love my goats. I love my goats. I love my goats.) She's eating hay. She's sleeping. I'm not. I make her get up and walk. House to barn and back again. I think I fell asleep somewhere around 2. Up like a shot at 5. OMGosh! She's gonna be dead. I just know it. All because I slept for 3 hours. Out to the barn. She's sleeping but it didn't look like that. I call and call and she doesn't move! I'm crying again and fly thru the gate. She just picks her head up and looks at me like I'm crazy. I make her get up and walk. Still no improvement.
6am and all is well.
You couldn't tell she had anything wrong with her if her face wasn't such a pretty pink. I go back in the house and sleep until 10.
Moral of the story? Not sure there is one. Maybe, "Don't give up". But I guess that is life's moral. Rodney Atkins (who is a horrible human being by the way but has a great voice) sings "If you're going thru hell, keep on going, don't slow down, if you're scared don't show it, you might get out before the Devil even knows you're there." In other words, Don't give up.
