The Loaner Goat

 

When Ella went to butt ...  I mean be with Boo, Marigold and Watson, Peanut was distraught.  Change with a capital C - that nasty word reared its ugly little head once again. Suddenly the youngest member of the troop and the littlest kid to have ever been born at his former home (though I expect that record has since been broken) was utterly alone.  It was very sad.  He wouldn't even venture out of the barn. After all, as Bilbo Baggins said, “It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door, ... You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to."  

So after a lot of serious thinking, wailing and gnashing of teeth, and a whole lot anxious consulting by me, Peanut and Marigold's former Goatfarmer, over at Heron Hill Dairy, offered a 'loaner' goat.  What in the world is that, you might wonder?  Well, a 'loaner' goat would be one that is graciously loaned until such time as the remaining resident goat (that would be Peanut) passes on to that great peanut factory in the sky.  Said loaned goat then goes back from whence it came thereby eliminating the perpetual cycle of one goat alone.  For all my love of goats and the many wonderful adventures we have had together, alas, I am not as young as I used to be. (Did I really just admit that?  Talk about change! OY, indeed.)

 Anyway, now, about 'The Ottoman'.  That is a strange name for a goat. But after all, one must understand that her sister is The Footstool.  What can you expect?   Apparently The Ottoman was fatter.  The Ottoman was deemed  the best choice for a 'loaner' because she likes people and would likely follow me (the Goatmother) out of the barn.  Peanut, definitely not fond of being left alone, would thus be lured outside.  And it worked.  Mostly. If it is a just a little bit too cold, or a little too damp, or just a wee bit early or a tad too late, The Ottoman has to go it on her own.  Apparently some things don't change.  A man has to have his standards.

The Ottoman is much smaller than Peanut (if you can imagine).  A veritable lightweight weighing in somewhere in the range of 65ish pounds on a fat day.  (You know about those.  We all have them.  The day after you had that one piece of cake that turned into two, or those three, or four or five ... maybe that  sixth ...whole bag of cookies?)  Let's just say she is small enough that, upon arriving home, I was able to lift her out of the back of the truck and carry her to the pen.  Who knew?  ( You still got it goin' on, Goatmother! ☺) And after Ella the Giant, well, The Ottoman's size took a bit of getting used to.

All in all, Peanut has come to accept her, though he learned his lessons well from Ella.  He really gave The Ottoman 'hay', as Marigold would say, for the first few weeks.  Change.  There it is again.  After years of being last at everything, Peanut was now first.  Still, gradually he slacked off his reign of terror, and The Ottoman began to give back as good as she got. Yet another change. Peanut has regained his former zest for life and will probably outlive us all. Sometimes change is a good thing.

So there you have it.  The Ottoman: a change of the auspicious variety. Peanut is no longer lonely and no longer last.  He is first for treats, the best places to lay in the sun (if there ever were any sun), and first for Nacho flavored Doritoes.  He has learned all too well:

"Your life does not get better by chance, it gets better by change." —Jim Rohn