I have just added an immeasurable amount of time to my remaining life expectancy by reducing my blood pressure to half of it's normal reading.
I got rid of Lira.
No, I didn't go out there with a machine gun and do her in, although I have had thoughts about ripping out her vocal cords or duct-taping her screaming howler shut. I sold her. And not to the slaughterhouse or for goat stew; she went to a very nice couple who raises Boer and Boer cross goats. The exact same people who bought Lira's mother, Penny (the horned goat who almost did Nettie in a year ago), saw my ad in the local FB goat page and wanted her.
And I immediately had seller's remorse. You know, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you shouldn't have sold that goat (or chicken, or horse, or whatever). The gentleman that bought Penny, and subsequently Lira, showed me pictures of Penny's kids and they are stinking beautiful! Penny popped out two doelings a few months ago, one of them almost solid red! I had Penny bred to Herman before I sold her to them and when I saw the pictures of her kids I cursed myself. If I could have only dealt with Penny for another eight months, I would have been the proud owner of those two beautiful doelings. But then I thought it through again. I would have had to deal with her and her pointy horns for another eight months. So I told myself that it was for the best. And it was.
So of course, when Paul lifted Lira out of the crate and we made the goat / greenback exchange in the middle of the Tractor Supply parking lot this weekend, I had that feeling again.
Lira popped out two beautiful black headed Boer kids, one boy and one girl. I intend on keeping the male intact for (hopefully) breeding more black headed Boers into our herd. The only, and I mean, the only reason that I couldn't stand Lira was because she was a screamer. A non-stop screamer. And it drove me totally freaking bonkers. Like, I wanted to go out there and bash her head in every time I went outside because, every time I went outside, she was screaming. I though Pickles was bad, but Lira, oh, she took the proverbial Caprine Cake.
I had yelling matches with her. I swore at her. I would purposely stay INside because I didn't want to go outside and hear her bawling at me. It was horrible. And I seriously considered putting a dog shock collar on her and zapping her every time she bawled to see if I could kick her of the habit. But really, all I wanted to do was strangle her every time I saw (i.e. heard) her.
So there I was, in the Tractor Supply parking lot, getting that feeling again.....the "Seller's Remorse". Because you know what? For the past two days, I haven't heard a stinking peep out of her. And the entire hour-plus ride to drop her off (she was in the back seat), she didn't make a sound. Maybe she was going to turn around. Maybe she realized that I would get rid of her if she didn't stop yelling. Maybe she permanently lost her voice.
Maybe cats would fly outt'a my ass.
I don't care how quiet she was for the past two days, because I KNOW if I would have kept her, I would have been back to screaming obscenities out the front door at her every time she yelled. And I don't give a rodent's buttocks if she suddenly started popping out gold-plated kids every year. We said goodbye to her and I'm happier than a clam. Not to mention I'm a hundred clams richer for it.