Thursday, February 15, 2018

Earth Creatures


Are we sure that goats are earth creatures?  Don't you think something about Peaches proportions appears alien?  Maybe I just think that because she tries so hard to communicate with me telepathically.  At least that's what I think she is doing when she stares into my eyes with those odd square pupils.  Why else would I feel so compelled to feed her treats!   


Greetings, earth goats.  


I've noticed that the goats rarely come out of their pen lately, and I think it's because they don't enjoy the near constant rain we've been having, or the resulting mud.  Because they prefer to stay in their hay lined stall, they aren't hard on their pasture, like the donkeys.  The donkeys have churned up their yard to the point that it's a quagmire.  They also have a muddy trail that follows the perimeter of their pasture.  I worry about them having wet feet for so many days in a row.  My horse owning friend doesn't seem worried though.  


It's been six days since we buried Puck under the apple tree, and even with frequent visits with the goats, donkeys, and time spent with Wendigo, our big sweet dog, I feel Puck's absence acutely.  The house feels different, like the lights are dim or the fire isn't as warm.  In the days since he's been gone, we've rearranged some furniture and put down a new rug.  We keep the pantry door closed.  I think we're attempting to change things up with the hope that it will help us notice his absence less.  Time is what it will take, and we know that.  


Little Buck still looks like a baby goat to me.  He's taller now, but he's sort of scrawny.  How do you know if a bony young goat isn't growing fast enough?  He seems healthy, and his eyelids have good color.  He eats, but he just doesn't fatten up.  Hopefully this spring he'll have a growth spurt and finally become a man goat.  I have high hopes for goat milk by next spring.  

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

OK Rain, you're killing me. I am definitely tearing up, both for you and for myself. Keep hugging on Lionel and he gives me the "Oh brother, here we go again" look. I just don't think the chickens will fill the void when the time comes. No wonder all those 1970s country songs sing about losing the dog... right after Momma. Help us all.

I am definitely team Little Buck. Females are hard work. An older female with her own onterage of gay b.f.f. even harder. He has his work cut out for him.

-Tamara

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...