The other night, my wife “went to bed” because she was “tired,” so I assumed she was asleep until I saw her tweet this: "Who in the Nashville area is selling Pygmy goats? I want to get two in a few months. Anyone have a wait list on litters? In my spare time, I’m going to have a hobby farm. Husband/farmer not included.”
So she's supposed to be sleeping but, instead, she's awake researching goats for the goat farm that she wants to have but will not have because this is not happening. I have lost every argument in my house about animals that we've ever had. We ended up getting every single animal I said I didn't want— from cats to dogs to chickens, so I realize that my record is not good. But on this, I will prevail.
I'm telling you right now, if you live in the Nashville area, do not give this woman your goats. Don't do it. Your goats are not welcome on my property, I don't care what she says. You will not be sending them to a loving home. I hate your goats and I don't want them. You will be sending your goat off to its demise… while my wife was researching for her hypothetical goat farm, I was looking at recipes for goat stew. Can’t say I didn’t warn you.
