Buckaa and Buckoo were the names of the two goats the children came up with. The younger ones had no clue why they were here. The older ones knew better. They were tied up to the poles in the carpark, braying like there was no tomorrow. And ironically, there was not going to be a tomorrow. We took turns taking pictures with them and they looked wildly into the camera, their eyes glowing in the dark.
My girls came up to me later that night to ask the inevitable question: were the goats to be sacrified? I looked at the girls and kept quiet. The twin, whose aspiration was to become a vet, looked at me angrily. "Buckaa and Buckoo deserve better!" She stomped upstairs with her younger UK cousin copying her body language. They were not happy campers. My eldest daughter laughed and asked about the menu for the akikah. A la carte Buckaroos? Even I wasn't laughing. Our meat came packaged and cello wrapped in Canada. Meeting the livestock beforehand was not part of our protocol. I went to the front door to do my last video of the goats. They looked at me with fear in their eyes. "I know," I said out loud. "Who are you talking to?" my aunt asked. "To Buckaa and Buckoo", I sighed.
I acknowledged their names. Not good...
want to see the picture!
ReplyDeletePicture now available under Day 15 ;)
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