Why I Have My Hay Delivered

This little thing in the picture is why I have my hay delivered rather than going to the barn and picking it up myself. Her name is Lillyput. She came with extras, a total of 24 toes when there should be 18 and blindness. My husband and daughter refer to her as satan's spawn. I think she is a little angel who chose us to care for her. We ended up with her when one day last September, Steve and went to our hay place to get some straw to build an insulated shelter for our goats before the cold set in and this little thing, probably only about 5-6 weeks old at the time stood between Steve's feet crying. Imagine, a feral barn kitten approaching us. That's why I say she chose us. Of course, Bill, the farmer of whom we're quite loyal to in spite of his prices says, "Ya know, she'll die tonight if ya don't take her. She's been kicked out by her mother." Basically, all I have to do is give the look to Steve. The "oh please, we have to give her a home look" of which I've done to the poor guy for most of the 17 animals we have here at this little farm. And Bill promised to throw in a few extra bales of straw for free. Well how could we resist? Three hundred plus dollars later for eye care that hasn't worked, a spay, some marvelous lip piercings from Lillyput's "kisses",oh and at one point in my nurses paranoid way, I was certain she had given me rabies, here she is, in all of her glory.