Right after I wrote my last entry, the 10th installment in my goat death march, I turned my attention to Time Magazine, and had barely read for five minutes before I reached an item about goats. It was a letter in response to the issue about the California wildfires (I am really behind in my magazine reading), with someone suggesting that communities in fire-prone areas should start stocking the land with goats, because they will eat the underbrush that fuels forest fires. Then firefighters, instead of having to worry about fires, just have to worry about taking care of the goats. I did a little internet searching and found out that this is a real idea.
Now, I won’t lie; immediately I thought about writing a story about a goat dying in a fire, but I just can’t do that to these potential heroes. I am too scared of fire to mess up my karma like that. So as much as I have enjoyed thinking of ways that goats who think they are dogs might die, I am calling an end to the series. Consider it a Thanksgiving miracle, goats. Now go eat some brush.
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