The Goats are Gone

Well, one of the neat surprises awaiting me when I came home last week was that the goats are gone. And good riddance, I say. Not to the one with no nuts, who was a darned decent goat, but to the full-fledged male who made using the backyard such a chore, what with his constant head-down, ears up, full-bore charges at me. By the time you got to the garage to play a little pool you'd already have spent 15 minutes wrestling with the 140-pounder just to get him locked in the chicken coop. And speaking of chicken coops, the damned goats chased the rooster around so much he finally had a heart attack. We found his body in the runoff creek ditch.
I liked the rooster.
So the last few months haven't been real good for animals here. Marco released his rat into the neighbor's yard--he initially swore he gave it away--and it's now made a home in my office, tearing up three years worth of magazines and newspapers that have been kind enough to print my stories to make, I'm sure, a luxury condo in one of the little room's corners. Then we lost Sneakers to a high-speed water truc--just after he ate the fish Sarah bought out of the fish pond--and now the goats belong to the same neighbor we tried to lay the rat off on. Fortunately, she no longer lives next door, just uses it as a Rent-A-Movie and Tanning Salon. The goats are at her new house, about a mile away. But I know her husband Ty, and I'll bet dollars to donuts (of course now that donuts cost more than a buck each I probably should say donuts to dollars) that the big one winds up on a spit over a fire pit before June is over. Any takers? Takers over here?
Cause Ty ain't gonna put up with no goat bullspit. And his kids are going to jump the fence to get into the goat area and that goat is just too big for them. Ah, well, I told Italo that if Christy wanted to give them back she'd have to pay us. Or give us free movies for a couple of months, anyway.
Now we're not completely animal free, of course. There are at least three families of Cardinals and a couple of Blue Jays living here, and lots of squirrels. And we've still got Boots, the wonder guard dog, and Italo and Sarah found and brought home an abused black chihuahua (or some such football-sized mutt) that's now a house dog named Lady. Whomever had her scared the willies out of her because she is one frightened pup. We'll get her over that, and if we can keep her in the house, maybe get to keep her for a few years.
And then there's the horse....yeah, I know, what the heck do I know about horses other than that I'm frequently a horses derriere (that's in deference to you, Ms. M)? Well, not a lot. But one of the people I wrote about in a story about contaminated water wells recently has just had three foals. The one I asked for is a paint with beautiful brown and white colors and I don't think he's going to grow very large, or at least the owner promised he wouldn't. We won't get him till September because foals need mare's milk for about six months. So me and Italo are going to build him a barn when I come back from the next trip--which I leave for on Tuesday morning, yikes!--and that'll be fun.
I've already told the owner that I think we'll be great horse parents for about half a year, after which he's to find the colt a permanent home. He says no sweat, that his horses are always in demand. I just don't see Madeleina or Sarah up for brushing every day for longer than that, and when the job falls to me, well, maybe I'll love it. We'll see. But I promised Madeleina a pony when we moved to Texas and now I'm going to have my chance to give it to her. I actually promised a pink pony, so I'm going to have to do some watercolor work for a couple of days before I bring him home.
Back to the primaty tac: the goats are gone, the Gormans own their yard again. Hooray!