Requested by kviii


Requested by @k8mcgarry /// Inspired by @tombatten
  1. This list is going to be difficult because there are no photos of the actual event.
    Please suspend your disbelief, however, and enjoy this feel-good Midwestern heart-warmer wherein I provide multiple other photos to support my claim that I did, once, put a goat in a bounce house.
  2. A few years ago, when I was growing plants and flowers full-time, I decided it would also be fun to "get some animals."
  3. So, we did. Thirteen chickens...
    This photo was taken right in the middle of their awkward phase.
  4. And three Pygmy goats. They were all babies. It was like having eight sets of animal twins. Lots of feeding, lots of crying, and poop everywhere.
  5. I let my kids name them: Ollie, Lamby, and Darth Vader.
    They named the chickens, too--but those girls were really hard to keep track of. There was an Olivia, a Princess, a chicken named Harriet Tubman...I honestly forget the others. Except for Pops, the accidental rooster who TERRORIZED MY ENTIRE FAMILY and later died of frostbite. When the children of my customers asked where he was, I told them he'd gone camping.
  6. They were the sweetest. The cutest. And the cuddliest.
    *Sidenote: Lamby, the white goat, was the most intellectually challenged of all our animals. Poor Lamby! He was always getting himself in these humorous farm-related jams. He was also the most photogenic. We all have different gifts, Lamby.
  7. Speaking of jams, once, a woman who lived just down the road asked if I would trade her a GERANIUM for a LIVE TURKEY.
    I said yes, obviously. Add it to the menagerie! Seriously though, that turkey died within three days--it was sick and she knew it and I'd like my geranium back, pls.
  8. Anyway, the goats and chickens shared a sweet duplex, complete with a jungle gym. They also, on occasion and certainly not all at once, would take field trips.
    They visited the hardware store, the school carpool line, and, yes, even our bounce house.
  9. If you are an adult human, a solo trip to the bounce house can be sublime. You just lie there on the sun-warmed PVC and listen to the white noise of the blower. I highly recommend.
    If you are a goat, you lose your mind, do an inebriated goat-stagger/jog + lots of plaintive bleating. I recommend avoiding at all costs, @tombatten 😬😁 Kids are fine, though, as seen here.
  10. Their favorite thing to do, though, was sneak out of their pen and run STRAIGHT INTO MY GREENHOUSE.
    This was no joke. They could eat everything in sight,(this vertical garden = goat salad bar) and they could do it in no time flat . When all three goats escaped at once----quelle horreur!
  11. Then, one day, I decided I'd had enough.
    Not of the goats, but my business. I was moving on, 1000 miles away, and we didn't have room for goats in our new life. Didn't have room for this tractor, either.
  12. We gave them away to a really cool guy, one of my customers. He had lots of space, and a wealth of experience raising all sorts of other animals.
    Plus, he said we could visit them anytime. Win-Win, right?
  13. Before we moved away for good, we went to his farm to say our final goodbye.
    They weren't there. The goats. There were lots of animals in the barn that day, but not mine. There was a grimy work radio plugged in with an extension cord, and all the animals were listening to NPR* and I had the weirdest feeling come over me that we'd CHOSEN THE WRONG GUY. Speaking of wrong guy, I couldn't find him, either. *this was comforting
  14. I called him and he said they were over at his sister's.
    Like, for coffee? Is she trying to sell them Tupperware? Do y'all already need space from each other? ARE THEY COMING BACK, TELL ME THE TRUTH YOU MONSTER?!
  15. Eventually, we tracked them down. They were, like he said, at his sister's.
    I guess she had more room? They were a little wide. The whole thing seems surreal. And when I say THE WHOLE THING, I mean all of it. That I even had a farm at all, and for that matter, a bounce house.
  16. The End.