Many of you are jealous that I can combine my work as a writer with staying home at Little Pond Farm. You might think that I have extra productive hours because I don’t have a commute. You might watch the HenCam and think, how idyllic!
Then again, if you were watching just moments ago (early afternoon) then you saw that I was NOT at my desk, working on what I’d promised to get to my agent (sorry, Carrie!) No, I was sprinting across the lawn to extricate one of my goats from yet another goat drama.
Ever since the goat boys were little kids, they’ve had a plastic picnic table to play on, and to sunbathe on top of. It’s safe goat furniture. Lots of goat people have them. Here’s a photo of Caper helping me muck out his stall. You can see the table in the background.
Pip somehow shimmied his way under the table. Then he tried to squeeze out between the bench and the table top. He got stuck, like a turtle in a shell. So then Pip tried to buck it off. That didn’t work, either, so he galloped madly about. Caper, smartly (for once) stayed out of the way of the rampaging picnic table.
I was in the kitchen, pouring coffee, when I saw Pip’s head looking out from under the table. I put the coffee cup down. When I saw him stand up, with the table stuck to his back, I started running. By the time I got to the paddock, he’d flipped the table off and was peering at it with this wonderfully innocent, quizzical expression on his face. He looked up at me. Why’s that upside down and over here? he asked. I’m itchy, he said. That’s why I went under the table. I gave him a good scratching, and Caper, too. Then I went in and got my coffee and headed back to my office.
But, on my way down the hall I heard Scooter gagging. He threw-up, so I took him outside, where he trotted around happily. I brought him back in and cleaned up the mess.
I am now at the computer. I am now getting to work. Really, Carrie, I am. You’ll get that book revision soon.