So my darling, little Lucky. The one I bottle raised from birth:
The one who I used to cuddle in my lap while she looked at me with adoring eyes:
The one who used to curl up under my desk to take a nap while I worked:
My sweet, precious baby goat who I love more than anything in this world:
Well - she's all growed up. And she's kind of aggressive. And she's got horns. And she knows how to use them. And she's kind of a bitch. Kinda. Sorta. Well not really to me because she still knows I am her mom and all. But she's definitely showing all the other animals in the pasture that: She Is Not To Be Trifled With.
And on the one hand, this makes me ridiculously sad. Because part of me wanted her to stay a sweet, innocent, loving baby goat forever. But part of me is like: You go girl! Rock on with your bad goat self. Because she was rejected by Ann-Margaret. And because we did raise her in the house. And because re-integrating her back into the pasture and back into "real life" took time and didn't always go smoothly. And I was worried that as an "outsider" she would be at the bottom of the food chain. And that she'd get picked on. And butted at. And abused by the other goats. And so the fact that she does stand up for herself, the fact that she shows those other goats just who's in charge - warms my heart just a tad. Ok - more than a just a tad. Because clearly my baby girl is all growed up.
And if that ain't country, I'll kiss your...
PS For the record, I just wish Lucky would stop butting at Dixie. Dixie is the most skittish donkey I know (wait - she's the only donkey I know) and the fact that she's afraid of little old Lucky just kills me and has added a whole new element to the feeding process. But that's another tale. For another post.
5 hours ago