Hook, Yarn and Stinker

Sometimes it just doesn't pay to live with the goatmother. Crochet hooks seem to will her hands to create atrocities. Indignities inflicted upon the innocent.

Someone help me ... please ...

April Con'fool'cius

So next week is Watson's birthday - April Fool's day to be exact. Fitting that. Anyway, sporting a winter's worth of new hair growth, and ever since realizing his birthday was next week, Watson has taken on a new persona. Up until now, I have been the only philosophizing goat I know of. Mind you I remain the only philosophizing goat, but for some odd reason Watson has decided he too has earned this right. For Goat's Sake! He is only going to be three years old. That's hardly enough years to earn him the right to eat Peanuts, let alone the right to philosophize. Oy. Okay. I'm not that much older than Watson, but mine is an inherent right.

Nonetheless, Watson has begun to emulate none other than Confucius. Who is Confucius, you ask? Well, he was this Chinese philosophy dude that lived around 500 BCE, give or take a few years, and went about thinking and spouting things about 'morality, social relationships, justice and sincerity'. In fact, Confucius was so sincere he could probably rival Linus' pumpkin patch.

Anyway, Confucius' words have lasted through the ages and still hold true today. So I suppose if Watson had to emulate anyone, at least he picked someone worthwhile. Still it would have been enough just to speak his words and follow his examples, but noooooooo, Watson had to try and look like the old dead guy.

This is Confucius:

This is Watson:

Look at that again. See the funky long, skinny mustache on the Confucius dude? Now look more closely at Watson:

Oy boy.

But you know, I've been reading up on some of the things this Confucius guy had to say. For example, I came upon one quotation, in particular, that really hit home. You know how you meet those people (or goats) in life that things just sort of pop out of their mouths? You know the ones. Those guys that say things like, 'Boy! You've really gained since the last time I saw you!', or ' Wow! That hoof trim really makes your butt look big!'. Yeah. Those people. Well, all my life I've been dismayed by that kind of thing. Other goats would sit back and make excuses for them saying things like, 'Oh, they don't mean anything. They're just one of those ones whose thoughts pop out of their mouths before they've had time to think.', or 'Oh, they don't realize what they are saying. They just blurt out whatever comes into their mind.', and my personal favorite, 'It's not their fault. They just don't realize ...' Why not? I realize, and I don't say things like that!

Well, Confucius had a little something to say about such matters. He said, "Straightforwardness, without the rules of propriety, becomes rudeness." Take that, put it in your cud and chew it, Ella!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All in all, I guess Watson and the whole Confucius thing is okay with me. He is a little slow on the uptake sometimes, but then so is the goatmother and she does okay (for the most part). So even though Confucius said, "Never give a sword to a man who can't dance.", Watson will still do fine because Confucius also said, "Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart." And that describes Watson very nicely.

Ah-so there.

Shoe SPAM Pt. 2

Oy. Now it has gone from shoes to rings. Really, they need to give it up. Goats don't wear rings either. I mean we are not cows afterall. Oy.

Shoe SPAM

Some people might say that I am not very intelligent. After all, I am just a goat. Of course I might surmise that this just means they don't really know me. I mean I am half Nubian, but obviously that half got metered out somewhere along the way.

Anyway, that being said, I have been getting comment after comment on my blog about shoes. Yes, that is what I said. Shoes. Odd that. I mean I've never met a goat who wore shoes - tried to eat them maybe, but still, it is not high on a goat's list of 'must-haves'. Even Jimmy Chews, or Manolo Buttniks, or Ferragoatmo's. It's just not something we think much about. And Heaven (and everybody else within a 10 mile radius) knows how I feel about foot care.

Still, I get comment after comment about shoes. It makes no sense, and of course I don't publish them. For one thing the English is very poor. I think they must be written by mice - you know, like those stupid ones that live in the barn? Or I suppose it could be illiterate sheep. It's really hard to say.

Well, I may never know the reason why, but I am determined not to give the matter any undue consideration. They are most likely just trying to weasel their way into my Peanut stash. Ain't gonna' happen. Regardless, I know what I'm about and shoes aren't it. I'm all about common sense, intelligence, philosophy, and of course, Peanuts. Besides, " ... It's just like the size of your shoes - they don't determine how you live your life! You're either marvelous or you're boring, regardless ... " - Steven Morrissey. I've got the 'marvelous' down pat. 'Shoe SPAM's got the 'boring.'

It's Here!

This appeared yesterday. I guess it's official - spring has actually sprung! Either that or we have one seasonally-challenged little guy on our hands. Oy.

Or So They Thought

Yesterday morning the temperature was in the 40's. The daffodils were singing (yes, singing!), the birds were chirping, the trees were flaunting their spring fashion collection. A lovely picture to be sure. It was lovely until the goatmother conned the goatfather into helping with trimming the hooves of Boo and myself. She claims we are difficult. Hmpf.

Well, let me tell you, I tricked her! Yes, indeed! You see, normally the goatfather has to literally lift us onto the stand. Not such a mean feat when it comes to me, but he certainly has to flex his manly muscles to get Boo up there. This time, however, I simply jumped right up there on the stand. SURPRISE! Now mind you it was all just a ruse. I simply wanted them to think it was going to be easy. They were so delighted they began plying me with Peanuts - lots and lots of Peanuts! But once they were lulled into a false sense of security, I hit them with the big guns. First I kicked the goatmother while she was working on a back foot. Then I contemplated biting her butt while she was working on a front foot. That darned goatfather saw it coming, though, and foiled my attempt. Oy and darn. I am proud to say in the end I upheld my image - Marigold the Marauder.

Okay, well, that was the morning. I think the Great Goat God in the sky must've seen what I did because by afternoon it clouded over, the temperature sank and it started snowing! I suppose He thought to cool me off and put a freeze on my contemptible activities. By morning the temperature had hit 26 Peanut-chilling, behind numbing degrees. Oy and double Oy.

Oh, well, it is said, "Perfect behavior is born of complete indifference." - Cesare Pavese. I just care - a LOT.

PostScript: The daffodils are no longer singing ... They have learned to say 'Oy'.

Catching On

I've said it before. The goatmother is S-L-O-W. However, it didn't do me any good this time. You see, she asked me if I wanted to stay over night with the boys. I immediately came through the gate. Of COURSE it was in an effort to avoid Ella and all her pushiness. But somehow, after the Peanuts had been doled out (second time for me, first time for the boys), I tried not to look expectantly toward the other side of the barn. The goatmother caught on. 'Marigold! You just wanted a second round of Peanuts!' "The difference between a moral man and a man of honor is that the latter regrets a discreditable act, even when it has worked and he has not been caught" - Henry Louis Mencken. Obviously I lack honor - not to mention furtiveness. Oyyyyy.

Justice

Take a look at this picture. This is what happens when you are a long-legged, pushy Alpine. Notice the two 'polite' eaters at the left? Now you see, this is what happens on a daily basis around here. The goatmother doles out three equal flakes of hay on our side of the barn, and Ella proceeds to stick her head in the top of the hay rack and pull out entire flakes onto the floor. She does this for three reasons. First, she can. Second, it enables her to reach the most succulent morsels before anyone else, and third, it wastes as much hay as possible so that no one else will want it after it has touched the floor. Can you say 'uncleeeeean'? Now mind you this scenario always incurs the wrath of the goatmother, but Ella remains unfazed. Oy boy.

That has been my life up to now. Obviously Boo has not suffered as much as I. I mean, look at her? Do you think she hasn't been getting anything to eat? Anyway, all that came to an end yesterday. Ella's nose was OUT-OF-JOINT and I have to admit, it couldn't happen to a more deserving individual ... snicker.

So how was 'Miss Piggy' foiled? Well, you see, the goatmother and the goatfather cut a piece of stock panel exactly fitting the top of the hay rack, and hinged it into place. Since Ella always manages to take the top off anything she can reach (she views it as a challenge), a rather large clasp was affixed. What is more, another piece of stock panel was wired to the inside of the rack so that hay could only be pulled out from the bottom or through the squares.

When it came time for the goatmother to bring out the day's ration, this is how it went down. The goatmother placed the three flakes on the spool in order to open the top of the newly redecorated hay rack. Ella thought, 'Oh, boy! Look at that! Three absolutely unencumbered flakes just for me! How nice is that goatmother?' But then, the flakes were placed one at a time inside the rack and the ginormous clasp was secured. Boo wouldn't go near the thing because even though it was in the same place and looked exactly the same except for the bars, it was still not exactly as it was before and so must be a terrorist ploy to lure unsuspecting Nubians into the clutches of evil. Ella wouldn't go near it because she couldn't stick her head in the top and pull out whatever she wanted. She was so outraged, she began butting me as though it were my fault.

The goatmother smiled, opened the small gate between the two halves of the barn (which I can walk right under but Miss Legs-Up-To-The-Sky can't unless she crawls out on her knees). I walked calmly to the other side as the goatmother closed the gate and asked, 'Marigold, would you like to spend the night over here with the boys?' Livid. That's a good word. It nicely sums up Ella's reaction.

By morning Ella had lowered her standards and Boo had finally realized there was really no Hamas of Hay. Some hay was wasted, but not nearly as much as before so the goatmother was happy. As for me, I agree with Harrison Ford. "Peace is not the absence of war, but the presence of justice."