We have one of these:
His name is Yogi - World's Ugliest Goat. His other name used to be The Defoliant - but now he's so old he's more on a par with other goats. In the fall, we all know (for miles around) that he is a Billy. If you don't know what that means, look it up - unless you can smell him - and then you already know the what if not the why.
And we have these:
The one on the left is "my" dog - her name is Libby. She's supposed to be a Border Collie, and several pounds ago, you'd have believed me. At this time, however, she is in imminent danger of becoming a formless heap of dogliness. I should walk her more (ha! yeah, right). The one on the right is Sarah's dog and her name is Katie, and for some weird reason she never gets matted hair or too much bulk. We do not understand this because taking her for a walk entails perpetual motion. If the humans stop walking, Kate does not just sit. She lies down. And stays.
Sarah also lays claim to this:
Please note: the member of the household with the most claim to the critters is the member that does not reside at this address. I saw this happen in my uncle's family ... and then in the one my parents run ... you'd have thought I'd have known better. But here we are. Kate the dog and Gemma the cat, and they're both Sarah's critters.
It's July - and this year, it's the first time there have been as many good weather days in a row as are necessary for getting the hay in sometimes we don't have to wait until July.
This means that in the month of my birthday and our anniversary, we have the house being assaulted for its own good and the hay being gathered for the good of the animals (only, there's just the one cow and the World's Ugliest Goat now, so we're selling most of it when it's bailed).
Next year, the anniversary will be #25 -- I'm thinking someone else can put in the hay.