You Did What?
I receive an email from the CFO this morning expressing great surprise and concern that we now own a goat. She has wanted some chickens for some time and I thought a goat might be a reasonable compromise. Guess not.
Anyhow, she points out with great accuracy that the covenants for our property preclude the keeping of goats and other farm animals. In my excitement about owning a goat I had forgotten that little tidbit of legalese. I've though on the conumdrum for a while now and what I'm going to do is keep Billy down by the creek where he can drink all the fresh creek water and eat mountain maples until his heart is content. That's far enough back in the woods that nobody ought to mind.
Billy was still under the weather when I got up and I took him to the veterinarian hospital this morning. They think he has GERD, gastroesophageal reflux disease. Goat GERD, if you will. They want me to give him Prilosec once a day.
On the way home I stopped by the fruit stand to show off Billy to Clifford. He allowed that he'd never seen a goat quite like Billy. I explained that, according to the fellow I bought him from, Billy was a Swedish goat called a Julbok that needs cooler weather and was bred to live in the snows of winter. I also told him that Billy had GERD and needs to go on Prilosec. He thought a Julbok goat with GERD the most foolish thing he'd ever heard.
"But, Clifford, the veterinarians say some kinds of goats are known to have finicky digestive tracts," I retorted.
"Look, a goat is a goat and I done told you how to cure it. Mix up that feed like I said and he'll be purring like a kitten in two or three days."
Guess I'll be heading down the hill to the mill in Wilkes county if the Prilosec doesn't kick in real soon.
Or just maybe I'll just put him in the Pete Jones barbecue pit and make some cabrito for Christmas.
Anyhow, she points out with great accuracy that the covenants for our property preclude the keeping of goats and other farm animals. In my excitement about owning a goat I had forgotten that little tidbit of legalese. I've though on the conumdrum for a while now and what I'm going to do is keep Billy down by the creek where he can drink all the fresh creek water and eat mountain maples until his heart is content. That's far enough back in the woods that nobody ought to mind.
Billy was still under the weather when I got up and I took him to the veterinarian hospital this morning. They think he has GERD, gastroesophageal reflux disease. Goat GERD, if you will. They want me to give him Prilosec once a day.
On the way home I stopped by the fruit stand to show off Billy to Clifford. He allowed that he'd never seen a goat quite like Billy. I explained that, according to the fellow I bought him from, Billy was a Swedish goat called a Julbok that needs cooler weather and was bred to live in the snows of winter. I also told him that Billy had GERD and needs to go on Prilosec. He thought a Julbok goat with GERD the most foolish thing he'd ever heard.
"But, Clifford, the veterinarians say some kinds of goats are known to have finicky digestive tracts," I retorted.
"Look, a goat is a goat and I done told you how to cure it. Mix up that feed like I said and he'll be purring like a kitten in two or three days."
Guess I'll be heading down the hill to the mill in Wilkes county if the Prilosec doesn't kick in real soon.
Or just maybe I'll just put him in the Pete Jones barbecue pit and make some cabrito for Christmas.
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