And So It Begins, a/k/a The Case of the Flipping Flap

Things being what they are, I cunningly distracted Boo long enough to engage in a brief tête-à-tête with my man, Watson. Well, okay, it wasn't really head-to-head since, as you can see, he is quite a bit altitudinally-challenged even when he is on his feet (which I am beginning to believe is roughly around 60% of the time). Still, we managed to get introductory conventions out of the way and set to work on our very first mystery - The Case of the Flipping Flap.

I explained to Watson that some time prior to his arrival we had been experiencing a most unusual phenomenon. You see, there is a vent on the side of the shop that has three flaps. From time to time, the top flap would be open - stuck in the 'up' position. The goatfather would always painstakingly go and get something with a long handle (for you see the vent is quite a ways up) and flip the flap back into position. Mysteriously, the next day, the flopped flap would be flipped back into the 'up' position. It was a most perplexing, not to mention annoying, occurrence.

Watson seemed to feel that, because of the lofty nature of the incident, the perpetrator or perpetrators, had to possess expert skills in climbing or flying. Sticking close to Holmesian philosophy on the nature of crime, I replied, " I have investigated many crimes, but I have never yet seen one which was committed by a flying creature." (The Adventure of Black Peter) At which point Watson nodded, nonchalantly, in the direction of the shop to what can be seen below.

Excellent deduction, Watson, my good man! Case Closed.

Day 2

Things are not going exactly as planned. First of all, we have not been allowed to actually go in with Mr. Watson. It is my belief that someone, who shall remain nameless, but whose ancestry includes the word 'Nubian', is largely responsible for this. Right from the get go, someone stuck her big old head through the fence and bit poor Watson. Barbaric, if I do say so myself. That was bad enough in itself, but it scared the guy and he immediately went into a half-faint. He spent the rest of the night in the stall next to ours, no doubt ruminating over the idea of a world-gone-mad and inhabited by rude, aggressive Amazon warrior women. This isn't exactly how I expected to make my introduction.

Then this morning, the goatmother took the Mighty Quinn in, on leash, of course, to introduce him to Watson. Decidedly, Watson has never seen a dog or anything even remotely resembling a dog. Things went pretty well, though, despite the fact that the Mighty Quinn refused to quit barking. Watson backed himself into a corner, as one might expect, but the ever vigilant Boo took advantage of his disadvantage by again trying to bite him through the fence. She takes her supposed 'herd queen' position far, far too seriously, if you ask me. I mean every time I tried to get close enough to the fence to begin discussing possible sleuthing strategies, Boo effectively knocked me out of the way. Really!

The Mighty Quinn finally quit barking. Watson attempted an approach and was repaid for his obvious compliment by the resurrection of the bark. Oy. He again backed off against the fence, keeping one wary eye on the Mighty Quinn while simultaneously sidestepping 'Jaws', the Nubian. Hmmm...not only a sleuthing side-kick, but a possible dance partner? Possibly not, seeing as how when the goatmother got up to leave, the Mighty Quinn took a step toward him and Watson fell down in a full stiff-legged faint. I repeat. Oy. Did I say, 'Oy'? Oy.

Take heart, dear Watson! Very soon it shall all be 'old hat'. "Come, Watson, come! The game is afoot. Not a word! Into your clothes and come!"

Watson, I Presume!

Warning! The eagle has landed...or should I say the goat. Yes, that dreaded fainting goat has finally arrived. I must admit that I have heretofore had very mixed emotions about this. Still after meeting him, well, I can see that there might actually be some merit in this situation. For one, his name is Watson. H Bar H J. Hamish Watson to be precise.

Now here is reason for profound thought. As you may have surmised by now, I have always been inclined toward deep, sincere, and extremely succinct powers of ratiocination. Much like one of my all-time revered role models, none other than the eminent master detective, Sherlock Holmes. To be sure there are mysteries to be had in this place! Through clean living and right thinking, my dream has come to fruition with the arrival of my very own Watson! Miracles do happen! (Perhaps all that meditation and praying I have had to do during my recent bout with starvation has had something to do with this.)

I will now be able to utter such profound phrases as, "You mean well, Watson. Shall I demonstrate your own ignorance?" (from The Adventure of the Dying Detective) Or better yet, "I never get your limits, Watson. There are unexplored possibilities about you." (from The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire). Unexplored possibilities? An understatement to be sure!!! Marilock Holmes has her own Watson! Bring on the mysteries! I can see them piling up as we speak. The Mystery of the Disappearing Peanut. The Adventure of the Mysterious WhoDugIt. (a delving into the origin of 'The Hole'.) The Coyote Howled At Midnight. Oh, rapture! Oh, divine bliss! And the best part? He doesn't even LIKE peanuts! He's an animal cracker kind of guy. Oh, let the sleuthing begin! Watson, I presume!

I Can't Wait - Not!

Woe is me. Next Sunday the goatmother and the goatfather are going to Boring, Oregon (yes, that is what I said...Boring, Oregon), to pick up that equally *boring* fainting goat. The time has finally come. Oh. Excitement. I can't wait. Yeah, like I am really excited about having to share my meager grain pittance, my hay and, most especially, my sacred Peanuts with yet another goat.

Still, I suppose I should look on the good side. I mean if life hands you inferior Peanuts, make peanut butter, right? It could prove interesting to have someone 'lesser' to push around. As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, the fact that he faints could make this prospect even more enticing. Peanut butter here I come!

The Ultimate Sin

Oy. I can put up with a lot of things, but this takes the Peanut. I can not even begin to express my outrage, my indignation, over this matter. As you can see, Ella has decided to take over my stump. My stump!!!! Can you believe it? Can you begin to comprehend the audacity this requires? MY STUMP IS SACRED, SECOND ONLY TO THE HOLY GRAIN ROOM AND PEANUTS!

DO YOU HEAR THIS, ELLA???

Simply put, the stump is MINE.
Period.
End of discussion.

There is a Yiddish expression that is, 'A chazer bleibt a chazer'. Translated, it simply states, 'A pig remains a pig'. Need I say more? Oy.

Good News

Hey! 'Gudndreye' happened today! Oh, boy!!! The only trouble is I just feel too weak...too weak... ...fading fast... ... ... send food... ... ... ...

This Could Be My Last Post

This is what it used to look like twice a day around here. (Please disregard the fact that this isn't necessarily anyone's best side - especially Boo's). It does not look like this ANYmore. The goatmother decided that Boo wasn't the only one who had consumed a few too many Peanuts. We are all on a diet now, for goat's sake!!! A meager 2/3 of a cup of grain spread out amongst three 'mature' goats once a day. Once a day! That is ALL! Great Good God Pan!!! (You know, that guy with the goat feet?) HELLOOO! STARVING GOATS IN INDIA HERE! I feel myself growing weaker by the minute. By the time 'gudndreye' finally happens ( a second coat was recently applied) I will not have the strength to make it up on top. Things are growing dim...this could very well be my last post. Please. Send food...