Meanwhile, back in the land of questionable judgment and limited brain cells… Pippin, the Saanen goat and Tiger, a wethered sheep, have formed a special bond based entirely on mutual idiocy. They’re about a year old, full of beans, and apparently decided yesterday was the perfect day to reenact Gladiator.
Their game of the day? “Head Butt”. Because nothing says “friendship” like repeated blunt force trauma.
Pippin reared up on her hind legs like a boxing kangaroo. Tiger came charging in from a solid three feet away, both of them going full throttle—and crack! You could hear the collision echo across the pasture.
They both stood there blinking, clearly trying to refocus after seeing stars. And then one of them said, telepathically:
“Hey! That hurt!”
“Yeah, but what a rush!”
“Let’s do it again!”
Which they did. Several times. Why? Because sheep... and goats.
At this point I’m starting to wonder if there’s a correlation between repeated cranial trauma and their complete inability to solve basic problems—like, say, not getting stuck in a fence they just walked through two minutes ago.
I'm sure all this causes brain damage. Which explains a lot!
That's farm life, where even the smallest animals have big personalities, questionable instincts, and no sense of self-preservation.
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