Galadriel

We were offered a milk goat.  Because sometimes people just have an extra milk goat, right?
Hunneypunkin's first reaction was an emphatic no.  When the goat arrived, Hunneypunkin's second reaction was an emphatic what-are-we-going-to-do-with-a-milk-goat.  And I pretended to be all indignant: "She has a name," even though I was thinking the same thing.
Her name was Galadriel, which totally made me laugh because, you know, Lothlorien elf-witches are, like, all beautiful and flowing and grace-y and goats are, like, just goofy.  Galadriel reminds me of Middle Earth.  Middle Earth reminds me of Thorin Oakenshield.  Oh, no, mental loop...
Angel Doll milked the goat twice daily till her wrists fell off.  I did it for a while till I thought, "Hey, I have other children."  So Lefty and The Precious got stuck with it just because I'm mean.  They weren't even motivated by the promise that milking would give them the muscular structure of Jeremy Renner.
Turns out Galadriel is a sexist.  She adores Angel Doll, and she's all smiles for me, but she doesn't like the boys at all.  The turkeys let it slip that she'd been plotting to stomp the boys half to death with her hooves, till the turkeys reminded her that it's the boys who feed her.  Now she just stares at the boys with telepathic disapproval and they return the favor.
The People drank some of the milk for a while, but as time went on the milk started to taste more like how you might imagine a goat would taste if you licked it on the fur.  For the record, I have not ever licked a goat on the fur.  Or anywhere.  So now we have jars and cartons of goat milk in the freezer all saved up for those times when suddenly you realize you need some frozen goat milk, and so then you don't have to go to the frozen goat milk store because you already have your own endless supply of goat milk in the freezer.
Much to my sons' relief, Galadriel eventually, finally, at long last, dried up.  I was so glad, because I almost stapled my ears shut for all the boys' complaining about having to do the milking.
Galadriel haunts the pasture now, waiting for spring, wishing for other goats, bored with the turkeys, and occasionally escaping the fence just because she can.  She searches for Angel Doll.  There's nothing in the world that is funnier, and possibly more unnerving, than looking out your kitchen window and being stared down by a bored goat.