I have had a bad cold, and have had a cloudy head, pumped full of meds. So I was unsure if the story I present below really occurred. However I found these photos in my camera that were dated on the day the said story supposedly happened, so...I will present it here to you.
I had left the house in the late afternoon to get to the barn before dusk. I heard rustling near by, a leaf perhaps, or an old bag of feed blowing against a rock. A shadow came to the attention of the corner of my left eye. I looked, but there was nothing unusual. I kept walking, but had gone less than 10 feet, when a very old voice grumbled something..."too cold..." and some other words I can't recall now. I turned my head, there was nothing, just the cemetery of fallen friends and rodents nearby, and the old coastal sequoias. I had heard of ancient trees talking, so maybe it was the one of them...I continued to walk on, and could see Guinnias and Frankie at the barn door, some 100 feet away, waiting for dinner. But again I heard the voice, the same older voice from minutes ago..."Must go, will return." This time the voice was clearer to me, it sounded very familiar. As I turned again, positive someone would be standing beside me, there was Guinnias. Just as I turned to see him, I saw his mouth stop moving, and he pretended to be eating grass.
I do not know how he got to that spot, since just seconds ago, I had seen him at the barn, some 100 feet away. He moves slowly, and there is a gate between us. My common sense said it had not happened.
Guinnias walked over to me, and we began to walk to the barn. I looked down at him, he looked up at me, probably watching to see if my hand went in my coat pocket for a treat. It did not. But he continued to look up at me. He seem unfazed by what had just happened.
One can through life assuming that unusual occurrences are figments of the imagination. Or one can just try to digest them, and accept that a person needs the comfort of a voice sometimes, and if it comes through an old goat, so be it.
