I'd like to say nothing shocks me anymore, but the truth is, life shocks the heck out of me every single day.
Yesterday morning, the hubby, Rascal and I went out for our Sunday morning constitutional. It was chilly, and us humans were walking briskly. Rascal trotted along, revelling in the morning air, sniffing this, that and the other thing, and likely mentally ticking off the list of stuff to mark. A typical morning.
I glanced up and saw a man walking toward us, his hands in his pockets. He wore brown overalls, a flannel shirt, and a coat on top. He had a brown cap on his head. Behind him, I saw his dog walking behind him, tall, with black and white fur.
That's a tall border collie, I thought to myself.
Rascal spotted it, too. His ears perked up, and he started moving a little quicker, his eyes open wide as we got closer.
The man continued to walk toward us. We walked toward him. Rascal's nose started to twitch. And then, I realized:
"That's a goat!" I said aloud. "That man is walking a goat!"
Well, actually, he wasn't walking the goat. He was walking with the goat. It trotted easily behind him. The man smiled as he heard my exclamation. "Hello!" he said as we got near each other.
"Good morning," I said as we walked past, tugging Rascal along with us. He was so shocked, that he didn't even think about chasing it. He was probably thinking the same as me: That is a fricking goat!
We continued on in silence, with Rascal stopping every so often to look back and snort in disbelief. And then, about five minutes later, I asked the inevitable:
"Where is he going with his goat?"
Because, like, they were walking into town. Not out into a pasture or over to a barn. He was walking past the hospital. Were they going to the hospital? Were they going to the shops in town? Surely not on a Sunday. A goat in a shop on a weekday, well that would be more believable...
So often, people find out I like to knit, crochet, spin and dye yarn, and so often, the reaction is, "Why would you do that?"
Well, why would you want to play sports, or read romance novels, or garden, or travel, or play video games? Because you want to, that's why.
And why would you deride someone who has a hobby in which you are not interested? Because you're a bully, that's why. Cut them some slack: we don't all have to like the same things.
So, the next time someone give you grief about your hobbies, remember: If you want to walk a goat, walk a goat. I myself would prefer a baby one like the ones below, but hey, to each his own...