In spite of Fern's and Blossom's charming attempts to persuade me ("You won't have to mow the grass, Daddy!"), I'm goat shy--the twice-a-day milkings, the stockpile of hay to feed her through the winter, and argh, the de-worming! Maybe I feel this way because around here things don't always go exactly to plan.
Witness Exhibit A: the remains of several gallons of sap that went awry. Actually, the chief sap named Birch is to blame. I thought I had the timing down and the heat on the outside burner adjusted just right, and then there was the Netflix on-demand movie the family was gathered together to watch. I caught the burnt cotton-candy smell in the air long before I reached the pot--the syrup was ruined. And so was the pot.
Flash forward to the poor goat waiting for the credits to roll on our Netflix movie. Udders swollen to bursting... It's too awful to even think about. Hey, Fern and Blossom, if we forget to milk the goat, will she explode?