Goats rule!

We had lunch with some friends today, they also have goats. After a lovely lunch we took their goats for a walk and they skipped and frolicked in the winter sun, the goats that is, not our friends, that would have been embarrassing, anyway they are far too sensible for that sort of behaviour. So whilst these two goats jumped around and playfully nibbled the hedgerows, displaying amazing traffic sense when cars went by I thought for a moment how nice it was to be out with such striking animals and indeed how lucky I was to own goats.
Then I remembered the damaged fruit trees, the vandalised garden, the distinct lack of fruit and vegetables, the broken greenhouse, the great tomato theft, the fights across the rooftop, the sexual harassment of the male gender when in season, the harassment of any gender when not, their complete disregard for the sanctity of car bodywork. Happy to own goats, am I mental? So another rule of smallholding was discovered today, that there are good goats, but they always belong to someone else. Ours will be very good when we sell them on. Or curry them.