Last night, my neighbor (the one who is constantly burning plastic outside and playing country music at top volume so the whole town has to listen to it) knocked on my door super late, to ask if he could borrow some milk and a couple of beers if I happened to have any. He went into a long, slurred shpeal about how his son (or brother maybe?) had found some kittens under their house and how his wife (or sister maybe?!) ran over one of the kittens earlier that day and now they needed something for them to drink, which could have been in reference to the kittens, but more likely he meant himself and his family. Anyway, I put some milk in a washed out cottage cheese container, some cat food in a ziplock bag, and handed over three beers that had been sitting in the back of the fridge for about two years.
He thanked me and then chastised me for answering the door that late at night, told me his son would be happy to shovel snow for me this winter, tipped his grimy hat to me, and promptly fell down the steps. He was mumbling about porch lights as he got up and walked away.
Later, I went outside to try to call one or three cats in for the night. While I was standing there, I heard all this crashing around at the back of the yard- something very hard was hitting something very metal, over and over again.
I had a hard time making up my mind whether I was more freaked out or more curious, but in the end, I grabbed a flashlight and walked slowly toward the noise.
It is amazing how much racket a tiny little goat can make with construction materials.
I tried to shoo the goat back to the crazy goat lady's yard, but it just stared at me, so I gave up and came inside and left the cats out to defend our home from goat vandals. Or would it be vandalizing goats? Goat vandalism? But the goat wasn't being vandalizing, it was doing the vandalism...?
It's coffee time. You know, again. Or still. All day.
and maybe disinfect it with alcohol.
