I don't know why but I just starting thinking about the little goat we had when I was about 10 years old. He was the runt of the litter, so my mum took him home from my uncle's on one the Dutch islands. I loved his antics, smothered him to death and kissed his warm pale pink tiny haired lips. We fed him with the bottle till he was grown up and started to do his malehood behavings. Unfortunately our yard became too small for him, a farmer led him away to go and live amongst congeners.
Do I sense a desire for Spring here...?