My daughter is smart, ebulliant, hard-working and a terminal fashionista. Have no idea where she got it from, but, hey, she’s my girl. When everything you do is dangerous or messy, practical clothes seem to be a natural choice. My daughter would not disagree but she would still like to get her hands on my wardrobe. I needed her badly last week. Now most people would say,”Hurray! The jeans are going to be retired.” Most would be wrong. The goats on the farm got out.
Goats are no respecters of human persons. They can get fairly pushy, especially the cute ones. It’s not a good idea to kiss and coddle a goat. That cute and cuddly kid gets real big real fast. Factor in horns and the males habit of rearing up and pees in your face and you can have a problem. My daughter was completely unaware of these aspects when I asked her help rounding up the little monsters.
She is a sensible woman and left her fancy clothes in the closet and after interviewing the neighbors, we honed in on their location in an old shed crammed with corn, potatoes, hay and old tractors. The game was on. She was hot and tired from trekking after them and fearlessly leaped after them, grabbing their horns and tails and bunging them safely in the car. Only one remained and she thought the best strategy was to hide under an eighteen wheeler. We did Ring-Around-A-Rosie for a while until my daughter hit on setting out carrot treats and pretending to look the other way. Finally she murmured, “Now.” The goat was peeing and I grabbed the tail as she lunged forward to help. “Don’t you let go!”, she hollered and grabbed a rear leg. Little goat bawled, but my daughter stuck a knee on the goat’s back as she put her on the lead.” I have had enough of these blanking goats!” she swore through gritted teeth.
My girl’s going to the Big City to seek fame and fortune. I send everyone luck.