I got to go up to the farm today and see Arlo, the little premature goat I got to hold when he was just two weeks old (see the photo here). He’s a bigger boy now; he’ll never get to the full size since he was a preemie, but he’s almost as big as his momma now.
I haven’t seen him since then but I think he remembered me. He nibbled on my zipper pulls, head-butted my thighs, even jumped up to put his front hooves on my shoulders, like to hug me. When we left he clambered his front hooves up on the top of the gate so I could reach over and hug him around the neck.
I love Arlo.
I love goats, actually. I loved being out with all of them (although most of my attention was on Arlo, of course) and watching their big, beautiful, wise, and slightly mischievious eyes. For some reason I find it very calming.
P.S. Dodger would like me to note for the record that he is better than a goat. After all, he says, the goats don’t paw mama awake at 4 in the morning like he does!