The goats have moved from the office to the tractor shed. The usual suspects are begging to keep them; the derelict apparent-owner doesn’t seem to be in a big hurry to come pick them up; the town animal control officer won’t return our calls.

I don’t like the way this is shaping up.

I’ve suggested that we should give them to a chef in the neighboring resort town; no one seems to like that idea.

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