I had hoped today would be peaceful.
The snow is melting. The pasture is recovering. My dossan has regained approximately 63% of its former glory.
I was rebuilding. Quietly. Gracefully.
And then…
The goat opened his mouth.
It began innocently enough. He trotted over with that casual, sideways bounce goats do when they are about to cause problems.
He looked at me.
Tilted his head.
And said, “Your hair’s still kind of… crunchy.”
Crunchy.
Crunchy.
I would like to remind everyone that goats chew tin cans for recreation.
And yet he felt qualified to critique my texture.
I inhaled slowly. Controlled. Regal.
“It’s called volume,” I informed him.
He blinked.
He chewed.
He said, “Looks like you stuck your head in a snowblower.”
Gasps were heard across the pasture.
The sheep froze mid-graze.
One of the younger cows audibly whispered, “Oh no.”
I stepped forward.
Not aggressively. Never aggressively.
But with presence.
“Listen carefully,” I said. “I survived a blizzard. What have you survived? A fence?”
The goat attempted laughter.
It came out as a cough.
He backed up slightly.
Good.
The Escalation
Later — and I say this with restraint — he attempted to nibble my fringe.
Nibble.
My.
Fringe.
This was not curiosity. This was sabotage.
I executed a full horn turn. Clean. Precise. Dramatic.
He retreated.
Victory was achieved.
But the disrespect lingers.
A Reflection on Standards
I understand that not everyone can maintain this level of follicular excellence.
I understand that envy presents in strange ways.
But commentary on my dossan will not be tolerated.
Not during recovery season.
Not ever.
Official Statement:
“Critique from a goat is merely background noise.”
Final Thoughts from a Cow with Boundaries
I will continue to stand tall.
I will continue to rebuild.
And if necessary, I will continue to remind the goat that elevation does not equal importance.
Until tomorrow.
Respect. The. Hair.
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