Sunday, July 5, 2009
We have a backyard which is only accessible through our sunroom. To get to the backyard, you have to go through the sunroom, either from the sliding glass doors that lead out of our bedroom, or through the sliding glass doors that lead out into the rest of the property that isn't the backyard. If you follow my drift.
The backyard is fenced, because that's where we usually put the dogs. But the grass is getting awfully high, and as you can (hopefully) imagine, it's pretty hard to get the lawnmower into the backyard to mow. If it even worked, which it hasn't since May.
So I decided to put the goats in the backyard for a few hours. I led them through the sunroom with some grain in a bowl, closed them in, and let them go to town on the grass and weeds. I myself got a nice cold beer and sat out in the "rest of the property" composing a poem.
After a while, Hope came running out yelling "Mom! Mom! Iris is in the house!" I thought she meant, in the sunroom. Nope. She wasn't in the sunroom. "Where in the house?" I yelled. "In our room!" Hope answered. By the time I got there, she was in the living room.
Luckily, I got her out of the house before she pooped. I'm still not sure of the exact sequence of events that let Iris get out of the backyard, through the sunroom, and into the house, but I think it's best to let them remain shrouded in mystery.
After all, it's not such a big deal. My sister has been living with two goats in her house for almost two months now.