It was a dark and stormy night. (This is Washington, you know). In the distance, a dog barked. (Probably that one across the highway that barks all the time anyway.) Thus the scene was set for the events that were to transpire. The mystery is that no one knows (or will willingly admit) just how it occurred.
Since the arrival of Watson, we have had only one good mystery. I just KNOW there are more to be found - especially here. So, well, I just found it necessary to prime the pump a little.
Watson has been in residence now for over a week. During this time he has resided next to, but separate from, the rest of us. During this sojourn, he has been lonely, evidenced by the constant and loud bleating coming from his direction. (Who knew such a little body could contain such a big voice?) The goatmother has been in somewhat of a stew over this matter because, as she deftly put it, the Amazon women will 'smash' him. They will 'clean his plow'. They will 'eat his Peanuts for lunch'. After all, the petite Watson weighs somewhere around 30 to 35 pounds, while 'Jaws', the Nubian, weighs in at around 160 pounds. Imagining this gruesome pecking order scenario was causing the goatmother to break out in a sweat (which didn't involve hot flashes). She wrote to every goat person she could come up with, asking for advice about the best way to prevent blood shed. Mostly the advice she received involved, 'just throw him in there with them...they'll work it out'. Still, the goatmother just wasn't sure this was the smoothest move to make. She tried taking us in, one at a time, in an attempt to get all the goaty etiquette stuff out of the way. It wasn't much of a success. Ella tried to butt him, and Boo tried the 'Jaws' routine with a few extra butts thrown in. I, myself, feigned acceptance and never made a move in his direction. A ruse, to be sure, but a 'tactical' one.
So, we got our heads together, (okay, there was some butting that went on), and came up with a plan of sorts. We had two problems. No. 1, we needed a mystery. No. 2, Watson needed to be in with the rest of us - no two ways about that!
This morning, after an unrestful night for the goatmother, (who had gotten up every hour or so to take the Mighty Quinn out because he had, yet again, eaten something he shouldn't have... Wouldn't you think he'd get the picture by now? Dogs! Oy.) she stumbled out to the barn to find what you see above. Yes, somehow all three of the Amazon women were in the right side of the barn with Watson, and, Watson was still alive! Praise Aiginaea! (You know, that Greek goat goddess?)
Now, the barn is divided into two sections, separated by large boards and wire, with a sort of a 'Dutch' door in between (a door that has separate-opening top and bottom sections with a latch on each). Now the latches on these doors are catch-type that can not be opened by goats (and very often people). So upon finding conditions, such as they were, with all parties co-mingling, the goatmother found that no boards were out of place, no wire was broken, and interestingly enough, both doors were shut! So how did the Amazon women get over there with Watson? A mystery, to be sure. Yes, the Case of the Lifted Latch.
Of course this mystery may never be solved. More's the pity. It may have to enter the annals of the 'cold case files'. After all, there are only four of us who know the truth, and we ain't talkin'! No, Sirree, or my name isn't Marilock Holmes! (Plus I have threatened to have Peanuts withheld from anyone who talks - or animal cookies).
But all is well that ends well. We got our mystery, the goatmother's mind can rest easier, and Watson is still alive. All is right with the world. (Although, I have to admit, with a modicum of embarrassment, that I, too, took a shot at him. It was just too much fun to watch him faint. I do hope he will forgive me with time.) "Don't be hurt, my dear fellow. You know that I am quite impersonal." (Sherlock Holmes, from The Adventure of the Retired Colourman)