Good lord, I don't even know what day of the week it is. This post was meant for yesterday.
Next one down on my siggy line...
Wife of Fred for 23 years
My children around the world:
Milly in Taiwan
Eun Hae in South Korea
Felice in Hong Kong
Nadya in Germany
Obrin in New York
And our critters Blue, Sunny, Cindy-Lou, Annabelle, Fiona, and Sophie; Mamfy, Mali, Milky and Punkin; Nick; Frog 1; Charlie and Dizzy; Minnie and Alice; Elfie, Frex, Crope, Tibbett and Ozzy; Genevieve, Pippin and Finnegan; and a dozen or so chooks.
I'd like to ask God why He allows
hunger, poverty, and injustice
in the world,but I'd be afraid
He'd ask me the same thing ...
Tibbett is the Head Honcho of our little goat herd.
About five years ago, we took in four Pygmy-cross goats from a rescue group. They came from an old lady who had a few dozen goats, none of whom were fixed or vaccinated or anything. The rescue group was able to talk the woman into giving up a good number of them, and they got 'em all fixed and up to date on shots. Of the ones I took, there were three wethers (castrated males) and a doe.
Tibbett is the smallest of the bunch, but definitely the alpha. He has an impressive rack (of horns) and a handsome beard.
It wasn't easy earning his trust, and took a long while before he would let me pet him. But once he did? I learned he knew a cool little trick. If I scratch him in just the right place on his shoulder, he tilts his head back and gets this faraway look in his eyes. When I stop? He looks square at me and lifts his front leg like a dog playing shake.
But don't tell him I told you.
Like I said. Head Honcho.
No need to scratch or shake. Just click (this button).