Whatever It Takes

Tessie is a twerp.  She pulled that "Maybe I'll come in and maybe I won't" trick again the other day.  I'm down there yelling like a lunatic, coaxing, begging, demanding, and she gives me the blank stare for which goats are famous.  If I walk out, she moves just out of reach.  If I stand inside with the door open (trying to fend off Sheila, who thinks an open door is an invitation), Tessie comes just to the sill, sniffs the edge of the jamb, then turns and walks away.  Tess wears a collar, but it does no good to try and grab it because she backs away faster.  Twice in the past week or two she's pulled her shenanigans and twice I've had to leave her unmilked.  Fine.  We both pay the next day when her bag is full to bursting and it takes twice as long to milk her out.  I'm not about to let a goat "get my goat."  It puts a crimp in the program, but my solution is to let her roommate Esther out in the morning and keep Tessie inside.  When all the others have had their breakfast and been milked, I let Tess into the little room and we conclude our business.  It means I can't open the connecting door for air, light, and being able to see the others, but she's held captive and that saves me the frustration.  Whatever it takes.