So most of you don't know how I met my husband. You know I call him
Professor Flubber (in the lovingest of ways). When I met him he was a
totally buttoned up city guy. He'd come to my little farm, the one I
lived in by myself after Paul and I split up, and he'd visit with the
"leftover" animals I ended up taking off the big farm...a couple of
ponies, some sheep, a goat. The goat's name was Gabby and she was a
black as night Nubian except for one white patch on her head.
So the very first time Roy is in the house during a rain storm, in the
dark, he was trying to get a glass of water and he stumbled into the
front hall. He calls me..."Celia, Celia, there's...there's..
something out there!" It was Gabby Goat, her head pressed against the
glass door, trying to get in out of the rain. All he could see in the
dark was her white spot.
If goats and jack russell terriers had opposable thumbs, I would fear
for humanity.
In the words of that silly space movie ...goats are pure, concentrated
evil.
And just sos you know, she HAD a three sided run in WITH a heat lamp
AND feed AND bedding AND company in the field which was field fence,
to which I ten added electric on the inside to try to keep her in.
She just preferred the porch and it wasn't until I actually put a net
up around it that I managed to get her out of the habit. And then we
ate her cause I hated her anyway. And she was good.