Hey, ho! It is I, Spielgoat, official goat of Santa Claus, here to tell you a most important and excellent tale. Now then, long ago, in the days of the Roman Empire (that was a really long time ago when people wore really ridiculous bedsheets for clothes and wreaths of luscious leaves in their hair instead of eating them like they should.), there was a small stable. In the stable, was a lovely goat (who was NOT an Alpine) and her very cute, dainty and svelte, black and white kid with charming airplane-ears, named Necessità. Necessità was an abnormally intelligent kid and liked to stand on things and philosophize. Unfortunately, some of the other animals in the barn (at least one of whom WAS Alpine) did not like Necessità. They were just jealous, of course, but instead claimed it had something to do with her ears. After all, no one is going to admit to wanton jealousy.
And so, on the night of the Winter Solstice, the animals had decided to have a Cool Yule party. (You know, the kind where the Peanuts flow and attendees tend to end up wearing lampshades on their heads?) Necessità's mother covered Necessità's ears with a lovely pair of mittens (hand crocheted by the ever-so-talented and famous, crochet artiste, Mrs. Micawber) in an effort to cover them and keep the other stable mates from complaining. (It actually worked rather well as everyone was SO fascinated by Mrs. Micawber's work they forgot to even notice what was underneath. The woman is that good.) Anyway, that night, after everyone was passed ou....uh...asleep, Roman soldiers came to the stable looking for goats to clear brush so the army could actually get through to the next country on the 'Must Conquer' list without scratching up their hairy legs. (The soldiers didn't wear bedsheets like the rest of the folks. Instead they sported bizarre mini-skirts that looked like someone had taken down the bedroom vertical blinds and decided to make clothes out of them. What is it with Romans and bedroom stuff anyway? Oy.) The soldiers picked a bunch of goats. (The Alpines were chosen first because, let's face it, if you need something done in an aggressive manner, an Alpine is the way to go.) They grabbed this one and that one. However, when they attempted to grab Necessità, she darted left and the soldier ended up grabbing one of the fabulous mittens instead, thereby pulling it off and revealing the ever-so-adorable ears. The soldier cried out in horror (Roman soldiers are not known for their taste, or their decorum in P-C sensitive situations.)
Thinking the stable manager (who was, by the way, just the nicest more-or-less bald woman anyone could ever hope to meet) was trying to put one over on them, the soldiers demanded ALL of the goats (except Necessità, and even including the fat Nubian one). The kindly silver-stubbled stable manager was forced to comply because, well, who wants to sit around listening, ad nauseum, to a bunch of ill-tempered, hairy-legged, vertical blind wearing rough necks, if one doesn't have to? But somehow, in all the confusion, Necessità was cast out into the snow and couldn't find her way back to the stable. Cold and lonely, with only one fabulous mitten and one mere Peanut tucked safely inside (Providence. That's what it was. Pure providence.), Necessità began to Baaaa-wl.
Now it happened that, on this night, a photographer was out with her Nikon attempting to capture images of, of all things, snowflakes. Yes, that is what I said. Snowflakes. Now everyone in their right mind knows that anyone else in their right mind would definitely not be out on such a night trying to capture anything, let alone a photograph. Of course, that would simply imply that *everyone* doesn't know the SnowCatcher. 'What the hay was that noise, anyway? Surely we are at too low an elevation to encounter the elusive Yeti?', thought the esteemed photographer. Yet, the goaterwauling continued and the lure of capturing a Pulitzer Prize winning shot of the illusory snow creature forced the SnowCatcher to abandon her quest for the perfect snowflake and go in search of the god-awful noise. Sneaking quietly (on little cat feet...) the SnowCatcher approached the source of the bellowing, Ken Rockwell recommended , Nikon 24mm f/1.4 AF-S G at the ready. However, instead of the evanescent snow monster, all she saw was a pitiful little airplane-eared ragamuffin.
Okay. time for a break. I know, I know. 'You can't just leave us hanging!!!!!' Wah Wah Wah. Union rules ,and Santa is a stickler for Union rules. How else do you think he keeps all those elves in line? Anyway, stay tuned. Part 2 coming soon! Hay, if Peter Jackson can do it, so can I.