Tuesday, August 31, 2010
There I was, minding my own business, milking Ruthie and paying attention to the business end of the goat, when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I realized that we two on the stand were now we three. There, between Ruth's front feet and darned near in my hip pocket, was a squirrel. I should have known that sooner or later one of the little boogers would get bold enough to want to get to the source of the cereal, but it still came as a surprise. Ruthie remained calm, which is a really good thing, because had she spooked it could have been a disaster with her head locked in the stanchion and her feet so close to the bucket. It was all I could do to restrain myself from aiming one of those teats and giving the squirrel a squirt, but I could imagine the chaos and common sense prevailed. As it was, we, all creatures great and small, spent the rest of Ruthie's turn in companionable silence. I think it would take very little to have the little guys eating out of my hand, but I really think that providing room service is about as far as I want to go.