Ok, so some things are only really, really funny after the extreme terror has passed.
I have gone to great lengths to goat-proof the house so that Darla may feel free to roam at will when I am home. Admittedly she's inquisitive, mouths a great many things and runs a heck of a goat race but generally she's not much trouble and spends a great deal of the time ruminating upon the meaning of life (or whatever it is goats ruminate upon) at my feet.
One thing I paid particular attention to was the stairs. A blockade worthy of foiling a rum runner was set up and all was well for a few days. But then, as I told my friend the Admiral when he inquired as to her health: "Well, she's not dying anymore."
Her vibrancy and joy are so heartwarming and her propensity to find the Worst Place to Be is stellar! So, even though I thought I had adequately blocked the stairs, sheer panic struck as I heard from the laundry room: Whump. Whump. Whump-whump-whump-whump....................wh-ump.
I raced to the landing expecting the absolute worst. Sweet Jaysus, how was I going to tell Farmer I broke the goat? And there was Darla, fully upright and doing the Goat Dance of Embarrassment. I swear I heard her say: "Stairs." I rather imagine that right as she stepped off the top step her face had that look that Wyle E. Coyote gets when there is only air beneath his feet.
Well, like the wise blogging goat Millie said: "Kids bounce."
And thank the Universe for that. Not that I ever wanted to test the theory. Thankfully the stairs are carpeted and nothing bad came of it but I have noticed that she gives wide berth to the area. That's good, because it's only funny once.
Darla learns...Darla grows. And she told me to tell you to watch that last step...it's a doozy!
Tomorrow: What to do when there's a Vermont milking stool stuck on your goat's head.
