Saying Goodbye to the Goats

I got the phone call...the one notifying us that they were on their way...to pick up the goats. Even though the arrangements had been made weeks before this moment, and I was quite alright with their relocation, it was still hard to accept. In just a matter of minutes, Chico and Dumpy would be on their way to a new home. And we would be left with a rather large space marked off by the chain link fence.
As I waited, I thought I should document the transfer of the pygmy goats through images captured on my camera. So I quickly grabbed my camera and headed for the door. I walked towards the pen, as the goats unhappily commented on my approach without the yellow bucket in hand. The yellow bucket signified feeding time for them, and they absolutely loved to see it swinging towards their feeding dish. However, this time, my hands were empty - except for the camera and a green leash that had been used on Chico many, many months prior. But that is another story for another time.
The truck turned into the driveway carrying three young children and their parents. This would be their new family. This would be their new life.
The kids bolted from the back seat of the truck with the excitement of - well, three kids that were picking up new pets. They chattered back and forth about the goats, and the goats chattered back to them...although I think they were still holding out that someone would produce the yellow bucket!
The dad quickly moved into the pen, holding two collars. He placed the first collar on Dumpy and before the goats knew what had happened, Dumpy was out of the pen and heading for the truck. Once he had been secured into the back end of the truck, the dad returned for Chico. He moved just as fast and with little opposition from the goat. In the blink of an eye, Chico had joined Dumpy in the truck bed and good-byes were being exchanged.
As a last gesture that showed my care for the goats, I quickly ran into the shed and brought out the yellow bucket. I handed it off to the dad, who was double checking the tie-downs that held the goats in place. I told him that they loved to see the yellow bucket coming towards them and filled with their favorite goat chow. I don't know if he fully understood, but the dad took the bucket from my hand and tossed it into the back with Chico and Dumpy.
Awhile later, I walked my puppy out by the goat pen. All was quiet, and Rufus seemed to know that something had changed...that Chico and Dumpy were gone. They will be missed. But in my mind, I can still hear them calling for dinner.