Makings of a Sitcom – only I’m crying instead of laughing.

 I heard the censor go off and thought that the missionaries were walking up the driveway.  Before I could get the door opened I heard Richard call:  “The goats are on the porch!”

They are Not our Goats! They were not our Chickens! and I have Absolutely no desire to be a homesteader! EVER!

Sugar likes to escape and lately Cocoa has been following her.  Last night they were both on the porch.  And then Bonnie got out and ran into the street to torment a dog larger than her. The larger dog was on a leash and being walked. Walker not happy with Bonnie.  I don’t blame him.

So Richard and I are trying to capture the goats with another neighbor.  None went after Bonnie.  And when Richard uncomfortably escorted Bonnie back in the house the goats got in.  Sugar climbed onto the coffee table to help herself to some bananas piled on the top of a bowl of fruit and Cocoa peed on our couch.  Richard fell during his struggles with Bonnie and I whipped Sugar while she dropped the bananas which had been yellow but are now badly bruised.

I did not sign up for this.  I should not have to deal with this chaos.  I want out! 

When we tried to coral sugar back into the yard (with more fencing in place, and Sunday attire once again) she hid behind the pepper planter and then decided to crawl underneath after Richard made efforts to torcher her with Bonnie’s leash)  I don’t know if they are still in the yard.  Nor do I care.  I am upset.  And I have shed tears over what hopefully one day I will be able to laugh at.  Because really, if I were to watch something like this on TV, I probably would laugh.

It's raining, but we did put up another fence - this time allowing them only a small portion of our yard rather than the entire yard.  Richard seems to think it will do the trick.  That's what he's thought at each attempt he's made to secure the yard.  We need to put a Bungi Chord around one of the gates to keep Bonnie in.

Bonnie does not feel well. She threw up by our bedroom door.  I don't know what it was.  

I washed her blankets and the bathroom rug. And now I am posting this to my blog.  I will send a link to Jaime.

Naughty Sugar

 

          Before he passed away, our neighbor purchased two small goats as he was unable to mow his yard.  The goats are named Cocoa and Sugar.  Cocoa is the smallest of the two and happily chows down and makes no attempt to leave the yard.  Sugar on the other hand . . . she is a naughty goat who has shown more interest in escaping the yard than eating any of it.  Why chew on grass when there might be plastic on the other side of the fence.

          Our neighbor has left the gate open so that the goats can start mowing our lawn – though I don’t imagine we would want our yard to look as desolate of hers.  But there is plenty of grass to go around.  However, I think we have spent just as much time searching for and corralling Sugar back into our yard.  I have actually lost sleep over it.  That isn’t right.

          Our neighbor looks drained.  I thought death could claim her before it took her husband as she’s not in the best of shape either.  Though she did seem somewhat better.  At least yesterday.  She looked haggard this morning.

          Sugar’s eyes are not the same color as my son’s dog – but there is something about her eyes that remind me of his.  They both have these wide round eyes that seem to present themselves as innocent when I know darn well that they’re not.

          She is back in our yard.  As Cocoa continues on the lush green grass, Sugar has decided to attack our blueberry bushes.  She seems to desire human company.  Cocoa could care less.