That’s just it. Plain and simple. I’ve always wanted a goat. I love goats. I don’t know what my goat will be good for. Cheese? Soap? Lactose freemilk for Ems? Lawn munching services? The wonderful blaaeeh, blaaeeh from the back lot?
(A lovely at the fair, pleading, pleeaase take me home, pleeeaase).
I love their fur. I love their long, sharply contoured faces. I love their knobby knees. I love their blaaeeh, blaaeeh, blaaeehing. I love their orneriness. I love that they try to eat your clothes.
There used to be goats where I live now. Right about here. My great grandparents raised goats on the very spot where we run wild now. I am searching very unsuccessfully to find a photo of me standing in this spot as a child, petting their goats. I think it would be very full-circle to have goats grazing here again.
But there is already too much going on. Two little hurricanes called children, a dog that runs me ragged, a finicky old throw-uppy cat, and a rabbit who, well all right, she seems pretty content to just hop around. There is also a job and a house to mind.
Alas, it looks as if there will be no goats in my near future.
…..but maybe one day. A girl can dream and all.