My daughter Mal wants a horse of her own. Passionately. With all her heart.
I said "no" to a horse. But I did not deny her a goat.
Now, the goat thing really was all her idea. When Mallory saw that no horse was forthcoming, not even an elderly shetland pony, she started thinking outside the box. (a little pun for all the horse-lovers out there) I had already said "no" to a dog, so what was left? Well, how about a goat? Teach it to go on a leash and you've got a pretty good pet, she reasoned. I heard her out, and as I felt bad that neither a horse or dog would be do-able, I consented. But she wanted to get started training it immediately. So, she went off in the truck with Fanta and Arouna to go to the animal market. I had a meeting I had to get to, but when I got home, there was Mallory, garden hose and soap bottle in hand. The little goat was bleating for all it was worth. I don't imagine the poor thing had ever been bathed before. It certainly didn't smell like it, anyway. Somehow, Mal had ended up choosing a male goat and his aroma, even at his tender age, already leaves to be desired. And I know very well how bad he smells, because I found him in the middle of the kitchen at 6:30 am this morning. He reeks, despite Mal's best efforts. She'd brought him in beacuse "he gets lonely out there with just the chickens".
He lives in a pen in back of the house with our two chickens: Snowflake and Jaguar. Mal has said that she is going to call her new pet Aslan, but keeps forgetting and just calls him Goaty. I think the latter certainly fits him better.
Lots of people in our neighborhood keep goats. They're not at all an uncommon sight in the street. But as you may have guessed, they are destined for the dinner pot, not a life of luxury.
Alexa is much better, thank you. She went to school this morning and stayed until we picked her up at lunch.