Lilly, the class clown

This little sweetheart has wormed her way into my affections in ways I never thought a goat could do. While she’ll probably never win any awards for impressive size or conformation, if she were human she would be the envy of every woman in America. This would be the girl we’d all hate because she could down three cheeseburgers and half a pizza every day and still fit in size 2 jeans.
Even though Lilly gets three all-you-can eat meals of grain a day and 24-hour access to hay, she stays thin as a rail. Yet I’m convinced she’s not unhealthy because she’s been thoroughly wormed and I’ve never seen a brighter eye or a springier step. She doesn’t walk anywhere–she runs. No, more correctly, she streaks. She’s our “Flash Gordon” goat who is here one second and 100 yards away the next. Be it the house or the truck, no door is safe. Any time one opens even a crack, Lilly is already jumping on it, even if she was on the other side of the yard before you blinked. If I were in the racing goat business, Lilly would be my prize filly. Lilly has also been honing her Ninja skills. She has a habit of running up the wall of the house and doing backflips off it. I wonder if Phil has been letting her watch Kung Fu movies?

But while she is a little ball of energy most of the time, Lilly also loves the quiet moments. If I’m chopping firewood and I sit down on a stump for a few minutes’ break, Lilly is in my lap with her head on my chest before I’m even settled. And she would likely stay there for hours if I let her. She’s a pure sweetheart, no two ways about it.

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