The Wrong Side of the Fence {A philosophical discussion between goats}

Cheese on the right side of the fence

“Out of there, right now!” I said as I came out of the barn to find Opie and Cheese, two stout pygmy goats, with their heads squeezed into the garden fence.

“My head is stuck!” said Cheese.

“Like Pooh!” said little Opie.

I pulled Cheese with gentle force and he popped back out.

“You have all that grass and clover out there, you don’t need to eat my garden,” I said.

“I have clover for breakfast, and grass for lunch–I like daisies for an afternoon snack,” Cheese said.

“The daisies are on the wrong side of the fence,” I said as I huffed back into the barn.

I was working for the next hour in the barn loft and I kept my ears open for any suspect behavior below.

“She sure gets grumpy about her daisies,” said Cheese.

Just then Ollie bounded in and said, “DAISIES?! Where?”

“You can’t have any, they are on the wrong side of the fence. We are on this side, and the daisies are on the other side,” said Cheese.

I came down from the loft just in time to partake in this philosophical discussion.

“How do you know what side of the fence is wrong, or right?” asked Opie.

Just then Earnest the pig sauntered into the conversation.

“We are on the right side. Whatever side we are on, is right, or we would not choose to be here,” the pig said. “Therefore, the daises are actually the ones on the wrong side and can be eaten,” and he left to take his usual afternoon nap.

I rolled my eyes and said, “Let me put it another way– you are not allowed to eat anything past the fence, period. That’s my garden and my flowers.”

“You can’t own the flowers,” said Opie. “they are of Earth, they feed the bees too.”

“Which is why you should not eat them,” I said.

“I have many bee friends,” said Opie.

I walked through the garden gate to go back to the house, and cut some of the daisies closest to the fence so the goats wouldn’t eat them.

“My God, you wacked there legs off!” cried Opie.

“I am making myself a bouquet, to enjoy in the house. It brings Nature inside and makes everything better, it makes me happy,” I said. As I shut the door, I heard Cheese say,

“Cutting the flowers makes her happy, but we can’t eat them, makes no sense really.”

A few hours later, I stepped out of the house, and could hear little feet scurrying away, rapidly. It was Opie, running out of the garden. At my feet on the stoop was a haphazard little bouquet of daisies and buttercups.

“I want you to be happy!” said little Opie as he ran for the barn.

How did they get the latch open, I wondered. And then I saw Cheese pushing an old apple crate from the garden gate.

I sniffed my bouquet and was happy.