Forget Me Not!

What is the memory capacity of a goat? Not very long, it seems...

This summer Emily is working at a camp about an hour away and comes home only on weekends. Exhausted from long days in the camp kitchen, she sleeps most of her brief time at home; I count myself lucky to at least spend quality time with her dirty laundry (which, I suspect, is the only reason she comes home at all). As for her goats...what goats? I have goats?

Saturday I had errands to run and Emily wanted to sit outside with a book. Perfect, I told her, take the goats down in the field and let them graze while you read. I keep a chair down there for just that reason. They know the routine.

Apparently not. Those rascals acted as though they had no idea who Emily was or where she was taking them.  Who is this strange human and why is she trying to make us eat weeds? Let's fight her! Emerson actually butted her, knocking her down the hill and cutting her leg open. Then they spied my car as I pulled out of the driveway...oh no! Our real mommy is getting away! Run, brother, run! We can still catch her!

Yes, after we got them back in their pen and bandaged Emily's leg, I drove away again, pondering how Emerson and Elliot could forget their original "mommy" in just three weeks. Yet, I shouldn't be surprised. Every day they charge mindlessly past the hallowed "Bottle Swing" where for nearly two years they enjoyed the best moments of each day. I still sometimes sit there to reminisce about those early times, but the goats seem to have no memory of our beloved bottle days.

Makes me curious...these goats who follow me from window to window as I clean the house and wail pitifully for my attention - how long would it take them to forget me? Maybe I am due for a vacation...