What in the world am I thinking!? I am NOT an animal person, and I just spent the better part of the morning wrestling with two baby goats that we brought home last night. Goats are strong, by the way. And stinky.
Why do I have two goats in a cage? That’s a good question. Let me begin by sharing how we acquired our other animals.
The day we got our dog, we were not even considering a puppy. I took the kids to the pet store just to look at the animals. Then I saw her. She was sitting in that pitiful little pen. Just sitting there looking at me with those big sad eyes. Begging to be rescued. Then I noticed the sign on her pen – CLEARANCE. I knew I had to have her. So I paid the slashed price and asked the shopkeeper to hold her while I ran to Wal-Mart to buy the things normal people purchase in preparation for a puppy. And to call my husband to inform him of the new addition to our family.
I was guilted into our next pet acquisition. Kendra really played me on this one. How could I not buy her the little kitty when her brother had a puppy. After all, she had always dreamed of having a kitten for her whole entire life. So, we bought the kitten and then went back to Wal-Mart for kitten stuff.
The dog and cat were enough for a long while. Until one day, the kids really decided they absolutely couldn’t live without pet rabbits. So, we bought them. They had to live in a dog kennel in the garage for a few days while Ronnie built them a hutch. Why? Because, once again, we were unprepared.
Well, after that, we tried fish, but that didn’t work so well as you remember if you read my post To Flush or Not to Flush. Moving on.
Time went on. We went through several rabbits, and my sister added a dog to the mix, but we pretty much stayed the same for a few months. Then, my son started really taking interest in frogs. Since I’ve always been very determined not to pass my irrational fear on to my kids, I helped him build a habitat in the unused fish aquarium, and we put four frogs he captured in it. I have to concentrate on not letting it bother me that there are frogs in his bedroom. I don’t go in there much.
Then, Ronnie decided to get chickens. Fresh eggs, teaching responsibility, all that good stuff. I went along with it because the baby chicks were so cute. However, since we were – you guessed it – unprepared! – the chickens lived in a container in my kitchen too long for me to end up liking them. And, honestly, now that they’re older, they scare me to death. They’re like frogs with feathers. And beaks and long claws. Terrifying.
So, that brings me to the goats. We knew we were going to buy them, so we bought all the supplies to build a fence for them. We even started on it. Good, huh? Unfortunately, that’s all we did, so when we went to get the goats last night, we brought them home and had nowhere to put them. Typical of us, really.
I was supposed to put collars on them this morning, and tie them to something so they could be out for the day until we finish the fence tomorrow. Good plan, huh? Well, it was a failure. Goats don’t like collars. Goats don’t like being led on a leash. Goats make a lot of racket, poop all the time, and jump around like bucking broncos. Who knew they’d be kind of like little donkeys? Not me, that’s for sure.
So, Max and I managed to get them to the backyard, but the collars I bought were too big, and everything that could go wrong went wrong, and they probably hate me already, and they’re only 106 days old and now they’re probably traumatized, and I’m afraid they’re going to bite me, and the dogs are barking at them like crazy, and the goats are bleeting at the top of their little lungs, and I have goat pee and poop and hair all over me, and I’m not really sure how I feel about goats now.
We’ll build the fence tomorrow.
In the meantime, I’ve heard a rumor that someone we know has a pot-bellied pig they don’t want any more…