Bronco

It is a happy hump day, middle of the week day and last day of July.  When I was about 5 years old my Dad came home from work with a little Spanish goat.  He told Mom he got him to help keep the grass trimmed.  I do not think Mom was buying it but I was so excited she just gave Dad that furrowed brow, pinched lips look which I think ment Dad was in trouble.  Years later he confided in me that he saw 2 men bargining in the parking lot after work. The poor little thing was being sold for a barbecue.  He said he knew I would want to save that black and white baby goat so he did it for me, payed all of 10 dollars to save his life.  He named him Bronco and I loved him.  Flour Bluff was country rural back then and it was not unusual for neighbors to have chickens or even a horse in the yard but I was the only one on the block with a goat.  Bronco was great fun. He loved attention and would climb up on rocks, jump off and do a big twist in the air.  I think he must have been kidnapped from a family of circus goats.  One sad Summer day AnnaMarie, she lived next door, said Bronco was on the ground not moving.  He had passed on to the place beloved neighborhood circus goats go when life on earth is done. I cried and cried. All the neighborhood children gathered when Dad got home, for the funeral and burial.  Bronco was a good goat!  I hope you enjoy today all day long.  kisses