I don’t think Cuzco could have survived without a bit of help from The Man Upstairs. The yard he ended up in was probably the only really safe one in the whole area. It was surrounded by a 6′ chain link fence with one gate (which happened to be open and he found it), and it was one of the only fenced houses where there was no dog. He could stay there safely, surrounded by a fence where no predators could get at him. There was a water barrel, a half acre or so of excellent browse, several lean-to’s and sheds to take shelter under or hide behind. I think he was ready to set up camp there for a long time if no one found him. And miraculously, the man who owned the place just “happened” to be going to a funeral where he met an old friend of his, my next-door neighbor, and told him the story of the goat on his porch at 4:00 in the morning. There are just too many “coincidences” in this story.

Anyway, Cuzco is eating now and feeling a bit better. His neck is still very stiff and sore. The swelling has gone down, but the muscles are hard as a rock. He can’t bend to the ground to eat and has to kneel or lay down. He also can’t swing at Nibbles, so she’s actually taken the upper hand in the pecking order for now. She chased him out of the shed last night, which looked ridiculous to say the least. But Cuzco eventually just went in there anyway and lay down with a “Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?” look on his face. He really hates her at the moment. But I tell him “what goes around comes around”. He gave my old horse, Easter, hell for years when he was a young goat. Now he gets to find out how it feels to be old and tired and pestered by a knee-high whippersnapper.

Since this is a “glamour shots” blog, I should probably post a photo in here somewhere. This is one of my favorites. It was taken a long time ago before Cuzco lost his horn. And no, I’m not making any sort of statement about where goats go after they die!