Remembering the bearded ladies

You may be just a little bit concerned over the title,

I can't really blame you for that I guess;

but be reassured, it's not some past circus life that I'm referring to;

I'm speaking of my goats.

Me and a few of our "Boer" goat kids; ten years ago...

On the 19th of December,

I looked back and realized- I had survived an entire year

without my goats;

and that kind of surprised me.

It seems like it has been forever since that snowy

morning when I hugged my last two goat ladies goodbye.

I had pretty much had goats forever before that,

or at least so it seemed.

Velvet and Rosabelle (the first two) became a part

of our new "self-sufficient" lives when I was seven years old;

and by the time Sonata and Dolce hopped into the truck that

frosty morning - more goats had left their hoof prints

across my heart and memory than I could possibly count.

Boy do I miss them.

I can see your eyebrows raising as you read that;

yes, I know.

You think all goats are horned, stinky, and hairy,

and have the brains of a scarecrow and the

senseless cravings of a garbage disposal.

I know you think that...

Especially if you've read

The Little Boy Down the Road...

Push back the prejudice, and imagine the perfect combination

of your favorite cat and dog.

These creatures (when well taken care of)

have to be some of the loveliest farm critters out there.

They are bright eyed, intelligent, and sassy.

They smell of clover hay and molasses.

They detest dirt, mud, and puddles, and

grain and hay that taste even just a little odd.

Our ladies were always a bit of barnyard divas;

so picky.

If their food touched the ground, they were done with it -

even if they were responsible for putting it there...

They have a sense of humor, we're sure of that -

whether turning lights on in the barn (and Kate getting

blamed for it) or opening locks and getting into things they

shouldn't (and Kate getting blamed for that too),

they do indeed seem to have a wild craving for mayhem.

And they thought it was funny. I know they did.

When I remember my bearded ladies,

I'll always feel silky hair, and floppy ears;

smell alfalfa hay and warm foamy milk;

and hear goat voices calling my 'name' morning and evening.

I'll always remember the mischievous escapades to the garden,

the freshly destroyed grape vines and tiger lilies;

the daintiness,

the curly hair and bad attitudes on rainy mornings.

The flustered fits of snorting at dogs,

the moments of silly, silly, dancing down the sidewalk when they

thought that no one was watching;

the most carefree ridiculous bouncing dance you've ever seen.

I'll miss them forever I'm sure;

but missing is sometimes just a part of remembering,

and forgetting them is something that I hope I never do.