I have a goat. This is exactly the type of thing people keep blogging about on social network Tumble, except this is actually happening, to me. I went to the farmer’s market with my parents, which was just as lame as it is every year, and I guess someone entered my name in a raffle or something because now I’ve won a goat. She’s outside in the garden, and I put the task of naming her to my friends on Tumble. So now she’s called Anita VI.
Mum and Dad are pretty much okay with it, I’m pretty sure. Dad says he was about to get the local Ashwood tree removal people in anyway, because that….tree or whatever is getting to be a pain to prune, but now Anita just eats everything in the garden. So it’s like having both tree pruning services AND grass cutting services, all in one. And trust me, I saw a lot of that stuff on the weekend. Like, they can lop trees with robots now. I know I’m not into garden stuff, but I did think it was pretty cool how they attached that ring thing to a gum tree and a few seconds later it fell down. Sadly, that was right next to the tent where they were keeping the goats, so Anita came home really spooked from that tree that came crashing down right next to her crate. Apparently they don’t like to eat flowers usually, but Anita was really spooked so she stress-binge-ate her way through Dad’s iceberg roses. He wasn’t too happy about that.
My friends at school don’t know about the goat yet. Not sure how to tell them, so maybe I should ask my Bum-Blur friends.
Okay, so they said I should open with some AMAZING quality tree removal facts, and while they’re still stunned at how tree trimming technology has advanced, I’ll slip Anita into the conversation. Smooth as that.