Real World: Hillmomba

This is the story. Of four goats. Picked to live in a pen. And have their lives blogged. To find out what happens. When goats stop being polite. And start being real. The Real World: Hillmomba.

OK, you won't get that if you are not familiar with The Real World, an MTV staple. But play along. I mentioned that Farmer H got a new goat on Saturday. Umm...no. Farmer H got THREE new goats. Count 'em. THREE. It would be easier if I gave you a picture of them, but that ain't happenin' until the weekend. Here's how it went down.

We were happily minding our own business on Saturday afternoon. Farmer H had returned from bowling, with the boys. The #1 son was supposed to assist Farmer H in rebuilding an old truck that he wants to enter in car shows. Don't hold your breath. He's had it for 11 years already. So anyway, the phone rang, and #1 answered it because it was the mother of one of his bowling friends. She said that her husband had a goat for Farmer H.

Farmer H was busy with his Number One Son, the one with two little girls who were being taught to shoot a shotgun. I know. That's about as hillbilly as you can get. The plan is for him to take the girls deer hunting with a shotgun, "So nobody gets hurt." Upon hearing about the proffered goat, Farmer H abandoned his son, who stayed in the BARn with his girls and our #1 son. Farmer H took The Pony to town, on a 10-minute drive to pick up a goat.

I'll admit that I was curious. And that curiosity grew as time ticked away. When Farmer H and The Pony returned from the two-hour tour, they had not ONE goat, but THREE. OK, two are small, and would only add up to one proper goat. But still, they each have a mouth to feed. We now have FOUR goats. Farmer H put the two baby billies in the old rabbit pen, since Spot the rabbit is currently on a world tour of the area around the BARn, what with Farmer H not checking the internet to see if you can keep rabbits in a pen with a dirt floor. The baby billies are about the size of a big fat cat. They have little horn nubs, and are cute as buttons. One is gray and one is black-and-brown. The other goat is about half the size of Goatrude. Farmer H thinks she might be the mother of the gray billy, because they have similar coloring. He also thinks the black-and-brown billy is a pygmy goat, not a baby, because he has a couple of dangling parts that are well-developed, according to Farmer H. The goat expert. Goats are herd animals, you know.

Goatrude used to bleat longingly when we got out of T-Hoe. Or when we opened the front door of the Mansion. The Pony used to bleat right back at her. Same thing with Farmer H. Those guys and Goatrude had a regular thing going. Since bringing home the new goats, Goatrude will not respond. She dropped Farmer H and The Pony like a prom queen drops the friendly nerd when the football team walks by. Farmer H says she doesn't need them now. She has her own people. Which happen to be goats.

Goats. They're herd animals, you know. It's on the internet.