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COUNTRY LIVING
I came into this world not quite four years ago, on a pretty fall day. There were six of us kids--me, two sisters, and three brothers.
Born in a goat pen on a farm, at the age of three days, I overheard the farmer and his lady friend. He called her honey; funny name for a lady.
They were saying my dear old mom had too many of us to feed, that she would soon run out of milk for us little ones.
The farmer said to his lady friend, he would see if someone in town would take one or two of us in and take care of us.
A couple of days later, the farmer and his lady friend came with another man and his lady friend. I heard the man and his lady friend say they would be glad to take one of us and take care of it. He said he had a pygmy goat when he was a little boy. He went on to say that they didn't live on a farm but they did live in the country, and he would build a little goat house that looked like a barn.
I came to the fence looking really sad and wagging my tail, thinking, Pick me! Pick me! The man and his lady friend looked over, and both at the same time said, "We'll take the sad puny one," and that was me, me, me, me, me! Hooray, hooray, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!
Living on a farm is one thing, but my mom told me all about country living--how beautiful it was in the spring, summer, and fall, how pretty the snow was in the winter.
They picked me up and took me away, then stopped at a store with a lot of farm stuff around. I looked out the window as they went in and came back with a big bag and this big, big baby bottle. I said, "Uh!"
I just know that I will love, love, love country living, and off we went to my new, new, new home.
The man said he and his lady friend would start building my house that looked like a barn.
