Our porch is peaceful once again, now that the orange cat is living his kitty-dreams by the Lake. I felt so badly having to bring that cat elsewhere, but he'd still be here if only he had calmed down and learned some good manners. My hand is still hurting from the scratches he gave me last week, and I'm not missing that blasted cat at all. Neither are our two outside cats, who now sleep wherever they like on the porch, not looking even looking around anymore for that orange cat. I'm guessing that Gatsby and Mickey know he's gone for good. Heaven help me if that orange cat finds his way back here, but I don't think he will..... the Lake isn't exactly around the corner, and he'd have to cross the main highway to get back to the hills here.
The day after the orange cat capture, the goats across the road got out of the neighbor's field (for the umpteenth time). The neighbor noticed the escaped goats right away, and drove over to our side of the hill with his truck in an attempt to round up his livestock and get them back into their pasture. Along with the neighbor came his two dogs, who usually do a very good job of herding the goats back to where they belong. The other day, however, one of his dogs not only herded the goats, but caught one of the goats and was trying to make it his lunch.
I happened to be out on the porch during all of the above, and all I could hear was the little goat screaming and crying while that dog held it between his teeth and tried to kill it. Nothing sounds as pitiful as a baby goat... sounds just like a small child when it's crying. Breaks your heart... I can't even explain it. I couldn't stay out there and listen to that.... back into the house I came and I have no idea what happened to the baby goat, what happened to the dog, and I don't even know how the neighbor got them separated.
About half an hour later, it was quiet out there again... no sounds from the goat... the field was clear of all the goats... the dog wasn't there, and neither was the neighbor. I thought I heard a gun going off, but my husband told me that the sound I heard was the back-firing of the neighbor's truck, which does from time to time make that kind of sound.
"It was his truck back-firing," said my husband again.
"Fine. It was the truck," said I.
Pooh. There are times when country life isn't all it's cracked up to be.
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