Gorgeous morning. Cool but not cold. Birds singing, flowers blooming, grass green, not a cloud in the sky. All was right in my world. And then.... I let the first goat out to go around to the milking room. Inga had been so good lately that I'd been lulled into complacency, more fool me. Inga walked past the door and stopped about ten feet away. Okay, I'll play the game. I waited. I coaxed and wheedled, rattled the food dish, begged and cursed. Fine, on your head be it. I'll take Sheila first, even though it would completely upset the routine. Sheila went up on the stand and Poppy gimped her way out, poor old girl (I'm giving her an aspirin a day now and it seems to be helping). Esther came in after Sheila. Inga would come close, but not close enough to grab her collar. Drat! Only Cindy was left. She's often the last one in for breakfast, watching and waiting for her turn. I called, but she didn't come. I walked around the barn one way and then another, calling her name. No Cindy. I started to panic and began looking for a body. Nothing. Where could she have gone? Who or what could have taken my goat? Then it dawned on me. Ohmigosh, in the disruption caused by Inga, I'd never let Cindy out of her stall! The look on that girl's face when I opened her gate said it all. Apologizing profusely, I brought her around and tried to pretend it was a new routine. She knew better. When Cindy was done, I went on with chores, ignoring Inga. That worked. Goats don't like to be ignored, and she finally came close enough to catch and I got her milked. They call it a horse laugh, but I think it's a goat snicker.