My Pet Goat

While Rich was taking a nap today, and I was in the kitchen making tomato sauce, there was a little knock on our door. It was our neighbor Laurie. I should know better than to answer the door when it is Laurie. But I did.

She wanted to know if we still had goats. I said no. She said do you want one? I said I didn't think so. But she went on to explain that some other neighbors from down the road a ways are moving, and they have this little goat they need to find a home for. They think it's a girl. It's over at Stan & Laurie's house. So I say, maybe. We just lost one of our sheep, and Plato is a little lonely.

So I go over and see it. Black. Cute. And the most endearing thing is, it has a collar and a leash. We could take it for walks. So I said "Sure!" And it didn't have a name already, so I get to name it.

So I bring it home, thinking Rich is still taking a nap and I could just slip it back into the field and see how long it took him to notice. But he was awake, and in the garage, so we didn't sneak past him.

Anyway, it is not a girl. And I named it the only name I possibly could, given what day it is, and our history with goats. George.

We named our other goats, that we got in 1993, Bill and Hillary. So it only seemed fitting to name this guy George. And it is the day before Sept. 11. What was George Bush doing on September 11? It all fits.

Plato is hiding in his house, and George is way in the back by the fence under the apple tree. I'm sure they'll get used to each other, and if not, I know someone who will take him.