Chopping up one’s Christmas tree for bedding is not exactly what most of us find ourselves doing the day after New Year’s, but that’s the task this goat owner found herself working on as temperatures plummeted in Miami.

From ten degrees above normal to twenty below that which we have grown accustomed to (in one day!) is a lot for us thin-skinned Caribbean types populating this strange Republic. “Brrrrr…¡Qué frío!” complains the bolded headline of the Spanish language version of The Miami Herald. “It’s just not normal!” we exclaim, shivering in our open-toed shoes wishing we’d invested in a pair of those snuggly Ugg boots starlets traipse in when off their skis in Aspen.

And my goat is no exception to the “I’m so cold” South Floridian phenomenon any other Alpine cross would laugh away while enjoying herself immensely in the brisk air.

She bleats plaintively the night away, providing sleepless guilt-ridden nights that find me chopping branches off my Christmas tree in the middle of the night to shore up her bedding. “Tomorrow night,” I mutter under my breath as the rare Nordic wind whips hair all over my face, “I swear I’ll have a heat lamp for you, Poppy.”

I know it seems silly to worry so much about the comfort of a cold weather-acclimated breed of goat, but she’s just not used to it. Her cozy three-sided structure also sports a wind-breaking, shade-giving tarp over one side, but it’s clearly not enough to give her the refuge from the cold she so obviously desires.

“Is this normal?” I find myself asking. Is she suffering because she craves company to keep her warm, as would normally be the case for goats in pens? Should I bring her in and have her butt at my bathroom door all night? Should I risk the goat urine smell visited upon my bedroom the last time I brought her in for the night (during last year’s cold snap)?

Tell me please: What’s a goat lover to do?!