someone's got my goat

Sharp-eyed readers will have noticed something is awry in the photographs I posted about our recent rainstorms.

One of the more interesting attributes of living in my neighborhood is the Noah's ark of farm animals that live nearby. Chickens. Fighting cocks. Ducks. Turkeys. Donkeys. Horses. We have them all.

For the three years I have lived here, goats  have been my neighbors on the vacant lot across the street. I call it Goat Island. It is not an island. And the goats? They are no more.

During its lifetime, the herd ranged from one to five. But the cycle has been the same. The goats arrived young, fattened up on grass and weeds, and were whisked away to meet their destiny as birria -- a popular Jalisco stew with a spicy kick.

The last two goats were a nanny and her new-born kid (just kidding -- this time). The owners shipped the goats off to simmer camp in late April. Since then, we have been goatless in Barra. At least, my part of Barra. There is still a large herd that is driven from lot to lot in my neighborhood.

And because the lot is tropical, without the goats, the grass is well over my head. The goats did a great job of keeping it mowed at ankle level.

They did a far better job than the neighbor boys who showed up in their campesino outfits -- complete with hats and machetes -- around noon. At 12:05, they had wisely retreated from the day's heat. Even the goats would have been searching for shade on a day like this.

Me? I am sitting under my new umbrella in the storm path of a floor plan while waiting for the Telmex technician to show up. He was supposed to be here between 9 and 1. It is now 2. That means another call. And another frustrating wait.

For now, though, the pool sounds like a far better idea.

Goats or no goats.

 Note -- I wrote this essay yesterday. The Telmex guy never showed up. And I now know why.

I am part of a much larger problem. For at least a radius of 5 blocks around my house (if not more), no one has telephone or internet service. That has been true since last Wednesday.

When I told a neighbor we should get a discount, he laughed hysterically. As Lily Tomlin would say: "We don't care. We don't have to. We're the telephone company."