Dogs with Horns

Last weekend, all of our hearts were made happy by a lovely visit from Nancy.  Nancy and I have been friends for (gulp) 18 years, since our freshman year at Bates in the twin cities of the Androscoggin.  

Since then, we've both had our shares of adventures, moves, new cities, good jobs, bad jobs, treasured moments, and things we'd rather forget.  During all of that, we've remained able to finish each other's sentences and know when it's *just time* for a Diet Coke.  Best friends are your family, and she definitely is.

Last year, Nancy came to visit in October, and we made our merry way to Sweetberry Farm for some frolicking in the pumpkin patch.  (I'm trying to lobby for this to become an annual trip.  Totally doable, right?)  Anyway, last year, Nancy snapped this priceless picture.  Remember?  I do.

That makes my ovaries hurt.

This year, Jack was much less interested in making cherubic poses while calmly sitting among the pumpkins. This year, Jack was super toddler head explosion excited about the fact that the farm has GOATS.  That's right, goats.  That you can pet, and feed, and poke, and giggle about.  Upon our arrival at the farm, we head straight to the goats.

One thing, though, Jack called them dogs.  

In Jack's mind, animals are either dogs, bears, or dinosaurs.  He's on the verge of figuring out elephants, too.  But if an animal is brown-ish and has 4 legs, and is not a bear, then it's a dog.  This means that goats are dogs with horns.

Still good for the petting, though.

Did you know they have dogs here?

I think I might pet one.

I am totally touching this dog with my finger.

I might even stick my finger in its eye.

So, a priest and a rabbi walk into a bar...

Hope your day involves some dogs with horns, or at least something furry,
Heather