At Rikki’s Refuge, it’s Goats in the Mist

As I wake up in the morning, the first thing I feel is Cat performing acupuncture on my back. She is an outstanding massage therapist and acupuncturist. I roll over and look out towards the East. The sun is barely up, the mist is just beginning to rise. Through the veil of the mist I can see the outline of dozens of goats, standing tall on their hind legs, their front legs tucked back against their chests, stretching and straining their heads up as far as possible, tongues pointed toward the sky, grasping leaves off tall branches. I turned and looked towards the West. There sits beautiful Angel, high on her perch, grooming, her beautiful plume of a tale. Domino races up and down the ladder trying to displace Angel and claim the top position.

The ducks and geese are strolling about, squawking and quacking their morning news. The dogs are still sound asleep. The pigs haven't yet started to roll and grunt. This must've been how our great ancestors felt, before the world got so hectic, paved over with asphalt, and covered with little human habitats. If nothing else, this feeling of freedom, of living with nature as it was meant to be, is more than enough to make it all worthwhile, living here at Rikki's Refuge, caring for over 800 critters of 17 species.

Or perhaps this is simply a rosy view of the past. Perhaps Cat would've been a saber tooth tiger ready to have me for breakfast. The goats would've been Tyrannosauruses just waiting for a fresh meal. And instead of Angel simply being a psychotic feline, she would have been a pterodactyl. Instead of feeling like a part of nature, I might have been a part of the food chain.