A few days ago Emily and I stopped at a local greenhouse to pick up some pumpkins. Out front was a collection of potted perennials for sale, including one scrubby-looking plant sporting a sign that read "Thrives on Neglect."
"Yeah, right," I scoffed, "Don't believe it. They said they same thing about goats, and look how that turned out."
"Actually, Mom," Emily countered, "I don't think we've ever neglected our goats, so how would you know?"
Right.
Last week the local weatherman warned of "unseasonable chills" and autumn's first frost. Concerned that the goats had not yet developed their thick winter coats, I worried about whether they could stay warm enough that night. I carefully swept out their shed, tightened the window and put down clean sleeping mats for them. Turning on their night light, I coaxed them into the shed, giving them a bucket of steaming hot water. Hopefully my efforts would be sufficient for the cold hours ahead.
Just before I went to bed, I decided to allay my worries and check on the boys one more time. Bundled up in a fleece jacket and mittens, I ducked through the small door into the shed - empty. Where on earth are my goats?? Did they leave the shed to pee and become disoriented by the cold, unable to find their way back to shelter? GOATS! WHERE ARE YOU??
Heart thumping, I turned on all the outdoor lights to search - and there they were - snuggled up next to each other, sound asleep in one of the flowerbeds. I was tempted to cover them with a blanket, but I refrained. Maybe Emily doesn't need to knit those four-sleeved sweaters I commissioned after all.
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