The Adventures of Clara Jean

On a cool, spring morning, after all the children had gone to school, I busied myself in the kitchen with the aftermath of breakfast time. I heard the phone ring and answered it. It was an old friend of mine, Sarah Jean. She told me she called to ask a favor of me—well, a favor of my children. Sara Jean lived on a farm and had a petting zoo. It featured a variety of animals that she would take to the county fair and other events. The petting zoo included pygmy goats. It just so happened that one of her nannies – mama goats – had given birth to triplets! Just imagine that: three, tiny baby goats at the same time! This was a problem. The nanny could only feed two of the kids, or baby goats. This meant that the extra kid would need to be bottle-fed. Sarah knew from experience that my kids were very good with animals and that they could bottle-feed this little pygmy kid until it got old enough to go back to Sarah Jean and her petting zoo. We chatted for a few more minutes on the phone while I thought about it, but I had to tell her no. I knew my children would get too attached to it—they would NEVER let the goat go back home. There would be tears and begging if I even tried. Why would I want to cause my children the pain of giving up a goat they raised? So, if I decided to let the children take care of the goat, I would just have to buy it from her. When my children got home from school, I explained to them what Sarah Jean and I had talked about. I told them we’d head to the farm before it got dark. Now, if I had really been thinking this through, if I had an ounce of sense in me, I would NOT have taken two little girls with me to see a furry, cute, little pygmy goat. Where, oh where, was my common sense? Did I really think I would come home empty-handed after this little adventure? So much for clear thinking! We arrived at the farm, and my little girls were extremely anxious to take on this work project. At the back door to my friend’s kitchen, Sarah Jean happily welcomed us in. Immediately, from somewhere under a cabinet, leaped out a small, precious, black fur-covered, cuddly pygmy goat. MY FIRST RED FLAG! The goat was in the house and already considered herself a member of the family. She rushed out to greet my girls, and they quickly began giggling and hugging her. With a closer eye, I realized that this pygmy kid was smaller than our three-legged cat Moe! Her coat was so soft and shiny. A small, white patch adorned her face. How cute was that? She was so small that each hoof was the size of a nickel. If she stood still – and that’s a BIG ‘if’ – you would think she was a stuffed animal. All in all, she appeared to be an adorably fuzzy package of total cuteness. Who could resist? Not us! Fifty dollars jumped out of my wallet, and soon my two little girls and I were on our way home with that little kid. I always kept a baby blanket in my car for those cool summer evenings, so we wrapped up that pygmy baby that we already loved so very much.