Last Spring, when I announced my desire to bring home a pair of baby pygmy goats, my husband rolled his eyes and shook his head. "OK," he says, "but it is ALL YOU. I want nothing to do with it." In theory, the "you" included the girls. But we all knew it was really MY project.
Fast forward six months. Here we are, going for a Sunday walk.
The goats trot along the path, following the dogs.
I think the goats think they ARE dogs.
Or maybe they think the dogs are quiet goats.