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“I know.” He shrugged.
“Ugh.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I nodded. “Yeah, I can take the baby. I’ll make room in the barn for her.”
The guy from animal control smiled. “Thank you. My grandma really loves goats.”
I felt my eyebrow raise. “You. Bought. Her. A. Goat.”
He shrugged. “I may have been drunk when I made the purchase.”
I closed my eyes and let the humor of the situation take the lead. In a bizarre way, getting your grandma a pet goat was kinda sweet.
He pulled out his phone and put the call on speaker.
“Hello Mikey.” Her sweet voice tugged my heartstrings. “Did you ask Norma’s girl?
“He did, Miss Rose. Your goat can stay with me and Charlie.”
“Sweetheart, you are my favorite nurse.”
“That’s because you have me wrapped around your little finger.” I laughed.
“We gets a goat!” Charlie jumped around the yard. “I wanna goat!”
“If that little dear thinks of a good name for her, just let me know what it is.” You could hear her smile through the phone, and it tugged my heartstrings, missing my grandma.
“Will do.” I followed the hopping child towards the truck, opening the door.
A tiny little mostly white with black eyes and a tail goat tilted her head.
“Hers is wittle.” Charlie clapped his hands and then the goat let out a wail.
“Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!” she hopped out, taking off across the yard on the same path the geese did this morning.
“Shit!” I took off after her, hoping to catch her before she found the hole in the fence. “No! No! No!”
“Bad word, Mommy!” Charlie yelled after me.
With a spring in her hooves, the little goat hopped over some branches and disappeared between the slats in the fence. Keeping pace with her, I slipped in between the same slats, not caring when I heard the unmistakable rip of fabric from my scrubs.
“Hey!” a familiar deep voice boomed, stopping me in my tracks and causing the little goat to fall over stiff.
“Dad!” a young boy’s voice cried out. “You kills it!”
“Not the goat!” Charlie yelled.
And without missing a beat, Henry and I called out in unison. “Shit!”
“Swear jar, Daddy.”
“Bad word, Mommy!” Charlie stomped his foot.
I bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
“I didn’t kill it, Dillon.” Henry’s voice seemed to fill the yard.
“Dweelion!”
“Charlie!”
