And Beau and I are the only ones mourning...
Now, for a disclaimer of sorts before you start to read. I have on some of my funny socks. In case you don't remember the blog I wrote a while back, entitled just that, "Funny Socks": almost three years ago, a group of email friends of mine comforted me after my little foster daughter MiMi left my home by sending me lots of funny socks. Some of those I have worn out, some are still in pretty good shape. In these pictures, I have on a pair of my funny socks they sent me. These just happen to be my pig socks. So now that that explanation is over with, on with my story:
The three little kids were outside playing, while I sat inside being an old grandma and crocheting in my rocking chair, my seven month old foster baby playing at my feet, and daughter Mary Susannah editing pictures. It was a nice, quiet, scene for a very short time. Suddenly, Angel-Leah runs in screaming that the goose has chased Luke down and bit him, and Luke is crying. That was surprising, because usually it's Luke chasing the goose, and Tommy getting bit.
So I went out to the porch, and sure enough, Luke was pretty upset, and had two large bite marks on his back. This time, the goose had just almost drawn blood.
That was not okay. So I got my net, caught the goose, and attempted to tie his feet tighter together. Remember, I have on my pig socks...
Feet tied, I asked Tommy if he wanted to pet the goose, but he declined:
So I gave the goose a very good talking too. I told him this was ABSOLUTELY his last chance. That yes, Thanksgiving and Christmas were over, but we could eat goose anytime. I think he was listening:
The kids all wanted me to use my scissors to cut his head off, they were that tired of getting bit. I explained to them that my little sewing scissors would probably take a long time to do the job.
And so I let the goose go, to see if I had his feet tied close enough together this time:
But the goose couldn't walk now. He would fly, take a couple of steps, then fall over. Well, that wouldn't work, because my dogs would think he was fair game. I told the kids to give him a few minutes to figure it out, and if he still couldn't walk, I'd put him in a pen. Thirty minutes later, we gave up and put him in the pen, feet still tied, to see if he could figure it out over night.
In the meantime, my friend Rose, whose goats I am caring for, came over to bring hay. Reluctantly, I walked out on the porch and asked her if she wanted a goose. She said yes, and the kids cheered and cheered. Honestly, I felt like I was giving away a landmark. I hated to do it, but the kids really need to be able to play in the back yard without getting bitten hard enough to draw blood. So Rose fed her goats, and then picked up our goose and put it in the backseat of her car:
Okay, Rose is a whole other story...
But Mary Susannah says she is now her best friend. The goose chased Mary Susannah many times, too~
Goodbye, little goose. Beau and I are going to miss you...