Gutted
When the whale died in the Thames a few years back, The Sun used the caption "Farewhale". I could have equally used the title "Goat-ed" but the news is too depressing for that. My friend, the goat in Buais, died.
An obituary: He was an absolute beauty. When we first met he approached cautiously and sealed the deal with eating some veg I offered him. From then on he'd spring out of his shed and bleet me until I fed him, and then watched me with those big eyes until I was out of sight.
He broke his leg and had to be put down. To make it worse, he'd survived Christmas! I want to scream out, "Whyyyyyyyyyyyy him?" but it won't bring him back. Instead he will be forever memorialised on this blog doing what he loved best: eating and looking.
Let this be a lesson: life is short so eat all the cabbage you can.
1 comment:
Oh bless you for that Philip. SHE was without question the best goat I have ever known and she will be missed by all who knew her. Juliet popped round on Friday afternoon for a cuppa with a carrot in her pocket and asking the question "Where's the goat?" so I had to tell her too. It just isn't the same without her over the road. Who am I going to give my left over veggies to now? Even hard-hearted Keith was moved by her passing. RIP little goat.
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