Black Magic

His story goes like this. He appeared on my uncle’s farm one day and made himself right at home. Based on a tag found on the goat, Dave figures he was on a truck bound for the slaughterhouse. There’s a lot of traffic on Route 30, which runs in front of the farm not 10 feet from of its white fencing. Seems the goat had a strong sense of self-preservation and leapt from the moving truck, perused the farm and made his way to the enclosed barnyard. Whether he bounded over the fence or squeezed through it -- we may never know, but he had no intention of leaving, not that anyone tried to remove him. He got along well with the horses and donkeys, the dogs and farm cats that resided there over the years, and even the lamas, not to mention the humans. What’s more, he made a good friend…a best friend -- Morticae the horse. They were inseparable. They looked out for each other; and it was funny to see the goat standing under the horse from time to time, whether just to be close to him or seeking protection from the unruly lama Paco. Black Magic went where he liked -- no fence could hold him, but he never strayed from the farm and usually not far from his fellow residents. Adorable, entertaining, and always quick to protect if he felt any of his barnyard companions were potentially in danger. I can still hear his snort and stomp. He did that a lot. Often it was just to get your attention, as if to say, “Hey, I’m here. Hello-o-o!” He was funny and he made me laugh a lot. A few years ago he passed away and it was a sad time. And while everyone missed him (and there was an obvious void left by the absence of his indomitable spirit), the one it hit hardest was Morticae. He seemed lost without his friend. Sadly, a little while back, he, too, passed away. I like to think they are together again in the next life, sharing once more in their antics and camaraderie. I miss you both.