The goats are so cute - I'll have to show those pictures to Ken. We had goats on our place in Canton, SD, when we first retired from the Navy and before we bought this place. He was out there with them all the time. We had a Nubian named Cecil and 3 Pygmies - Sweetie, Hades, and Moses. Cecil was Ken's hunting goat. Yep, hunting. Ken worked for an electrical contractor right after we got out, and he would come home for lunch. We had a lot of pheasants on our small acreage, so during hunting season he'd bolt down his lunch, grab his shotgun, and start tromping the high grass between the house and the creek that bordered our property. Cecil would go with him, just out ahead of Ken, and flush the birds. Nobody taught him to do this - he just loved to pound through that tall prairie grass and watch the birds fly up. He'd flush one, Ken would shoot it, then Cecil would bounce over to where he saw it drop and stand there. Ken often regretted that he couldn't get Cecil to retrieve too.
My brother-in-law was the only person who hated - truly hated - Cecil. It started the year it was our turn to host the big family Christmas. Russ and Linda and their 4 kids arrived, and Russ started hauling stuff in from the trunk of his car. Unfortunately he brought the Christmas packages in first, because when he went back out there Cecil was standing in the trunk of his car rummaging through the food they brought. Oh, and the garbage man wasn't crazy about Cec either. Cecil would jump up in the back of the garbage truck. The first time he did it Craig didn't even know he was in there. He made it the next neighbor's house before he realized Cecil was in there! Goats are how we ended up with chickens.
I wasn't on much yesterday. I took care of two medical procedures and they were both really painful. I had to cut the umbilical cord and grow a backbone, all at the same time. But I managed, and as of this morning when Jenny dropped Kendra off she was still speaking to me, so I guess the stitches are holding. The surgery has resolved the issue of going down to Torrington for Sharon's services,and Ken and I are leaving Sunday. Robbie finally got them all set, and the visitation is on Monday and the service will be Tuesday. There was absolutely NO reason on earth why what the kids need should be more important than what Ken needs right now. They'll either figure that out and work with me or they'll just have to get used to having someone else always there to dump their junk on, because it's not going to be me. I'm tired. And it's so doggone wrong to sit here and know that no matter what I do, someone is going to be mad or inconvenienced. So the cord is cut and I'm getting used to my new backbone. I imagine they will be tested a few times. We'll see if they keep working.