Subject to Vanity

by Margaret Benson

Then for some time I had no kid. After a while a lady near who kept goats gave me two kids.

These were very pretty kids; one was quite white, the other fawn colour, and very graceful. They would follow me everywhere; but, as I could not keep two, Chat, the white one, was given away.

It was considerably easier to take Tan walks than it had been to take Capricorn; for Tan did not want to fight every beast or child she met. Watch was useful in fetching her as he had been with Capricorn. Long afterwards, when the acquaintanceship between them was a thing of the past, to say, “Watch, fetch the kid,” would bring her hurrying up to us. Tan was the only one of my goats who ever learnt a trick, but I taught her to shake hands in exchange for leaves or oats.

Then we moved from the place where we were living, and I left Tan behind me for a child of the family who were coming into our old house. I heard no more of her for a year, and then they wrote to me to say that Tan was pining, and they wished that I would send for her. So she came up by train, and the first moment she saw me she remembered me, and we shook hands.

Tan is still alive. On misty summer mornings, one sees her pass the windows heading a herd of cows; she is much too proud to walk with sheep; and though she will condescend to go with cows, she keeps herself to herself, never talks to any of them, but preserves a proud and solitary position. On rare occasions a sudden burst of friendship or curiosity will induce her to come into the house with me.

But my friendship with Tan, I must confess it, is not what it was; perhaps it might never have waned if I had not consented to the year’s separation. But although occasionally we bleat to each other from a distance, though we shake hands over a few oats, she no longer runs to meet me if I come near, she no longer cries out with a wailing bleat when I go away, she no longer has to be tied up to prevent her following me. And I do not think it is age that has made this difference, I think it was worked by that year of separation.

Passing through the farmyard on a cold day, I found Tan in the corner where the dead leaves had blown up, and lay a foot or more deep. She was standing in the deepest part of the heap, which came up to the top of her legs, and had secured herself, as it were, a good hot bottle for the night.

In conclusion, I would say that there are no pets more enchanting than kids. They will give you as much amusement as kittens or puppies; while they are as intelligent as grown-up dogs, and even more wildly devoted. But there are two things you must never expect of a goat,—neither the least unselfishness in their affection, nor the smallest spark of benevolence.