Behind every joke is a half-truth. The truth part is what makes us nervous and is why we laugh. Laughter is a release of nervous energy, for sure. We have often said, after acquiring another animal, “the inn is full.” Tonight I realized that the inn will never be full. I do not mean to say that we would do anything dumb and become animal hoarders. But we will (I think) always have an open-door policy.

I have often wondered what we might do if someone left a border collie puppy with a ribbon around its neck, and a note saying, “She’s yours,” at our doorstep. Pete has said we’d find it a home. I’d probably say, “it has found a home.

Ranger and Swampy

All these thoughts now, as I write this dispatch. This afternoon, I came in after going for a long ride on Raudi. Pete said that Suzi, who sold us Stormy, our beloved goat who passed away a few weeks ago, had called and had a goat that she said we might be interested in.

This goat’s name is Swamp Thing – its original owner named her animals after Grade B movies. She said that she wasn’t doing well in her herd, and that the other goats have been picking on her. Also, she has a dropped udder. Suzi wasn’t sure if the suspensory ligament problem was due to genetics.

Pete said yes, we could go and check Swamp Thing out. So tonight, off we went. I got out of the truck when we arrived, and saw many many goats, most of whom resembled Stormy. My heart grew heavy when I approached these goats because though they looked like her, they were not her. I knew this because they didn’t recognize me. But my heart lightened when I saw, there on my left, a pen full of baby goats. Boy, the oxytocin then started flowing. One in particular, a week-old doe caught my eye. Two other people were picking out goats, so I waited until Suzi had a free moment and asked her about the smallest of the bunch.

Suzi told me that she thought that perhaps she toes out. She wasn’t sure. This is what’s significant. The doeling is a daughter of Aerial, Stormy’s sister, Aerial’s gift. I am a realist; I have my feet firmly on the ground. However, I can’t help but think that Stormy played a role in acquiring her sister’s offspring.

Swampy (this is her nickname) hopped in the back of the truck after being milked. It was like she was up for another adventure. We got home and I introduced her to Ranger. The two danced around with their hackles up; however, I suspect that they’ll be friends in a few days.

If all this wasn’t enough – Mike, Suzi’s husband, told me, upon seeing the Friends of the Wasilla Library boxes in the back of the truck, that the woman milking the goats was a distributor for a major freight company that has been sending books to villages.

I literally ran down to the milking parlor and introduced myself. Good things are going to come of this meeting. Of this, I am sure.