Goats Are Pure Evil

Sure, they're cute, but in fact they're pure evil

Just as I was arriving at my sister's house for a visit this morning, some twenty miles away from my house, I got a phone call from my neighbor. It seems he had ten goats in his front yard eating his flowers.

This is after Homero spent four hours yesterday fixing the fence. I apologized profusely to the neighbor and asked if he had some place he could put them until I could get home. He said he'd put them in a trailer. My husband called me soon after to say he was on his way home, so I called my neighbor back to tell him Homero would come pick up the goats in fifteen minutes. He was huffing and puffing when he answered the phone. He said "I've got nine of them in there, but the last one is a fast little bastard!"

I'd better bring him some fresh baked bread or something.

Homero arrived and put the goats in our most secure pasture, then returned to work. I was running around doing errands all day, so it came to pass that he arrived home before I did in the afternoon. You guessed it - they were out again! Luckily, the gate was open. Homero, understandably irate, yelled into the phone "I don't know if they've grown thumbs or what but I closed that gate!" I had my doubts about that, but decided not to voice them.

Now, back in the same pasture, they have remained contained for all of four hours. It's full dark, so I doubt they will escape again before sunrise. We absolutely must figure this out, though, because in a few weeks we are going to Mexico and leaving the farm with a farm-sitter. It's not reasonable to expect her to chase goats all over the landscape night and day, no matter what I pay her.

Wish us luck!