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The Wind came! The beautiful beautiful sweet ocean-cool wind from the West! And we were turned free!
Diary of a Dairy Goat. This blog is the diary of one goat, Baby Belle, a Nigerian Dwarf who lives on a small dairy farm in Western Washington.
Because of the horrible unprecedented heat here in the Northwest I am once again stuck inside with my two cousin-brothers Jimmy and Frank. They are a few days older than me and Zane Gray. Frank is handsome, he is blue-silver with blue eyes and black boots. But as far as personality he is called "the little pill." This is funny because he isn't little. He is very chubby.
On the other hand Mr. Jimmy has the personality of an angel, which happens quite frequently in my family, which is known as the Baby Belle family if you have never heard of us. Usually though it is Aunt Hannah Belle's sons who somehow manage to develop the highly refined family sweetness, perhaps because Aunt Hannah Belle is not only a Baby Belle daughter but also a Marquee daughter.
But anyway Mr. Jimmy is gaining fast on some of the classic sweet Baby Belle Boys of yesteryear, and this is making the farmer very nervous. This morning the farmer was scratching Mr. Jimmy's back and he closed his eyes halfway and snuggled up under the farmer's chin.
"Stop that, Mr. Jimmy," the farmer said. "You know there is a strict policy of no wethers here."
Atticus Pupicus is our guardian dog. He used to let all the babies jump on him like a trampoline. But now he doesn't like it any more, those sharp little hooves in the ribs. He has aches and pains now and jumping makes him grumpy. He woofs anybody who jumps on him. Zanegray jumped on him and got woofed.
When he woofs you it really gets your attention.
Oh ok, you say to yourself, maybe I will not jump on you any more. Note to self.
Anyway Atticus Pupicus has been very hot and short-tempered lately because he didn't have his summer haircut. It was blazing hot several days in a row, and Atty lay around panting and gulping water and digging a hole under the porch to try to find more shade.
The farmer had tried to give Atty a haircut, but the clippers died going into the first turn. They were no match for Atty's magnificent dingleberries and his woolly ruff.
Really there was only one person who could help Atty, and that was the kindly neighbor who really knows how to clip and has super industrial sheep shears.
She came over and fixed Atty up. It was not an easy job. And when she was done, they had to get the tractor to take away all the hair.
Atty is in heaven.
His hair is in the tractor bucket.