Goats are horrible people

Life Lesson Number 22: Goats are not impulse items.

On a trip to the feed store this spring to buy chicken feed, there were two little goats in a box at the end of the counter. My husband said I couldn't have a dog. He said nothing about goats. So they came home in the back of my mini-van, along with a Milky Way, The National Enquirer and gum. Unfortunately Monty the goat did not make it through the month. After many tears and grief, we realized that goats do not make good solitary pets and Jerry needed a buddy. So we went and found another goat who we named Ben. So now that the cuteness has worn off and the girls don't find goat poop and barn chores so much fun after all, after they managed to transfer poison ivy over most of my exposed skin, after chasing them down the road only to have them turn on me and knock me flat on my face, only after my hydrangeas, hostas and roses have born the brunt of nibbling teeth, after spending over $500.00 on ineffectual fencing...do I realize that goats are horrible people.

Today they got into my shed and somehow managed to knock everything over. Everything. To do this they had to first scale a five foot fence and open the shed door. I love them, don't get me wrong. They will have a safe, happy home for the rest of their horrible little lives. Arrgggh!

I hear that potbelly pigs are nice though.

Smiles,
Lisa