It's Thanksgiving. I bow my head. (Notice the white patch on my head even looks like a monk's tonsure.). Don't I look humble? As a matter of fact, I am very thankful for quite a few things.
First of all, I am very thankful that I am not Watson. Afterall, I wouldn't make a very good punching bag. Yet such is the way of life for my good man, Watson. At any given moment, one can enter the barn and hear thunderous bangs and crashes. One might surmise that an earthquake is in progress, or ninjas have moved in, but, then, one would be wrong. What the ruckus would, in fact, be is Peanut butting Watson ... against the wall ... the fence ... the hay rack ... the gate. Really it seems to be Peanut's mission in life to man the buttle stations whenever possible. Of course it is all in good fun (at least for Peanut), and Watson does give back some of what he gets. Despite his efforts, however, when one is prone to freezing and fainting at the drop of a Peanut (the eating kind, not the goat kind), well, what one gives can hardly be equal to what one receives. At any rate, I am very thankful I am not Watson.
This year I am also thankful that I am not the one responsible for the goatmother's recent solo flight through the barn. You are probably wondering what that's all about, and I am here to tell you that the journey was one born, not of choice, but of sabotage. Guilty parties are unknown - or at least unconfessed. It happened one evening when the goatmother unlatched the bottom half of the gate separating the two halves of the barn in preparation for the night. She proceeded to grab three particularly succulent flakes of hay for our repast, and started in to place them in the hay racks. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to her, someone had closed the bottom gate. She never stood a chance. With an armload of hay, she didn't notice the closed gate, hit it full force, and flew into the other side of the barn with moves even Terrell Owens couldn't make. Boo and I ran. Watson froze, only remaining standing because he was next to the fence. Ella (that suck-up) stayed by the fallen goatmother. Boo, deciding that demons must surely have entered the barn and attacked the goatmother, refused to go back in. IT WASN'T ME!!! I SWEAR! But I am really thankful it wasn't.
I am also thankful for Peanuts. That sort of goes without saying, really, but I thought I would mention it just in case. Christmas is just around the barn, you know.
So, I am thankful for a lot of things. I am thankful I can write this blog and that there are actually people who read it. I stand on my stump (I am exceptionally thankful for my stump), and words come to me. I hear the thoughts, and bada bing, bada butt!, the words are there. Really, "Many people hear voices when no one is there. Some of them are called mad and are shut up in rooms where they stare at the walls all day. Others are called writers and they do pretty much the same thing." - Unknown. Oy.
Whatever. Still, there is one thing I am probably more appreciative of this day than anything else in the world. Today, I am extremely and greatly goatful that I am not a turkey.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!