Thursday, July 9, 2015
Dealing with the goats individually on a daily basis, their personalities are readily apparent. Creatures in masses must have some outstanding characteristic to bring one to the fore, like the hens Tattletale Tessie or Pick-Me-Up Peggy, or Mini-Squint, the one-eyed mouse. I haven't seen Mini-Squint for over a week and fear he has gone to that great cheese factory in the sky. Of the many mice who come for breakfast every day, only Kinks stands out now. Some accident has left him with a double break in his tail and I can only tell it's him as he's going away. Percy has become inured to getting hit with a stream of milk. He has taken as many as twenty direct strikes in a row, squinting and brushing away the drips as he stuffs his face. The mice on that side of the room have to take their cereal soggy with over-spray. Pal comes up on my left, in danger of getting stomped as I can reach him with my foot, so he pokes his head up in the hole and gives me the stink eye, awaiting his chance to sneak a bite. Notch, with the ragged ear, continues to show patience as he lies in the big room, knowing I'll serve breakfast there later.
Even though it was cooler yesterday, only small tasks were accomplished while I treated my sore eyes with ice packs. I have more hopes for today.