My neighbor wanted goats so I'm going to blame her. I might blame my mother too. It's her fault that I was raised to be an independent woman who owns a truck and a horse trailer.
Well, that, and I found the checkbook. This is why I should never do housework.
Yep. Definitely Mom's fault.
It started with a glass or two of wine. Joyce's husband had said something about a sheep and goat auction in September 2019. I guess it was really his fault. After another glass of wine, we decided that 2 hours of driving was worth a few goats and maybe a few more sheep for me.
That's when things went downhill.
So in the grey light of morning, travel mugs brimming with hot coffee and purses filled with snacks, off Joyce and I went to buy us some animals.
About halfway to Vanderhoof, Joyce broke the news to me. She wasn't buying any goats today, but wanted to check out how much they sold for. Their fences weren't up to snuff for the escape artists and with the usual scurry of pre-winter preparations before we were all buried in snow and ice. She also wasn't even sure which kind of goat to even buy.
"There's different kind of goats?" I said. "I thought they just came in small, medium and large."
Joyce just laughed. I'm so naive sometimes.
I shrugged and glanced at the horse trailer waddling behind the truck at 100km/hr. No worries. I'm still getting some more hair sheep.
So after two hours of driving, some terrible directions from a gas station attendant and a little four-wheeling adventure down a ditch and through a trucker's muddy back parking lot, we found ourselves at an oasis of sheep and goats.
Just in case you're wondering, there is a lot of different breeds of goats.
Anyway, we zipped into the auction office and excitedly got our bid cards. Well, my bid card. Then off we raced to check out the ruminant situation in the pens.
It was a sea of lambs and kids. Joyce and I were in our glory. I never knew how funny goats were. There were billy goats crashing into each other and then backing up to laugh at each other. Hand raised lambs were sticking their noses through the fences, eager for a friendly scratch. Mama goats and sheep where standing around, chewing their cuds and gossiping with each other.
When the auctioneer announced that the sale was about to start, we reluctantly left the animals and elbowed our way to a seat above the arena. That's when my newest adventure in sheep began.
It took only 3 hours and a bowl of lamb stew to realize that we had to leave before we needed to get a bigger trailer. Let's just say Joyce and I couldn't stop giggling all the way home.
It was dark when we got back to Quesnel. Our husbands were waiting for us as we casually drove past my house and parked next to the sheep barn.
"What did you two buy?" Steve asked.
"Nothing," we said in unison.
That's when of my new purchases loudly made his presence known. The men scrambled up the sides of the trailer and their jaws dropped.
"How many is in there?" Rick asked.
"I only went $5 over budget," I said proudly.
"I thought you were only buying maybe 10 sheep?"
"And then she bought 20 more."
I shot Joyce an evil glare. Next time, I'm getting her drunk and giving her a bid card. I'll be her goat DD. Steve just laughed. "I don't think you two should play together anymore."
Joyce and I laughed. Good luck on that, boys.