Gift of hindsight says we should have raised goats

It took a change of neighbors before we started seriously asking ourselves about our choice of animals for husbandry.
Only it is not really husbandry. Husbandry involves the raising of animals for food, fur, eggs or something consumable or useful. Damncats don’t count.
On one side, the (now not so new) neighbor hides her hostility with difficulty. She is pleasant enough toward us, but makes her loathing of our damncats no secret to passersby who stop to admire them. And admire them they do. Between the variety of feline varieties and hues shades lounging about among the blooms of the geraniums, roses, impatiens, hibiscus, purslanes, shrimp plants, four o’clocks and I can’t remember whatall, it makes quite a spectacle for folks who stop to admire on their way to and from the Cherry Espresso on the corner.
On the other side, there is a young family with a recently arrived second daughter who are so occupied balancing demanding professions and family life that they seldom notice what goes on outside their doors. However, their drive (if you can call it that — its the small vehicle space created when the contractor cut down the old crape myrtle tree that once stood there) leaves their car parked inches from our front porch. Naturally, the front porch damncats think it was put their entirely for their convenience.
Rosemary has redoubled her efforts in the small yard to make it a flowering showpiece in an attempt to offset what ill will the abundance of damncats creates. And after dark, she sneaks around scattering in the neighbors’ yards a pepper powder compound that most of the damncats seem to avoid, at least until it rains which it has frequently in recent days. As soon as there is enough daylight, she is back out, scouting for feline aftermath to remove before it is discovered, so far not having been caught in the act.
Then recently New Orleans Ricky was diagnosed with feline diabetes. Now she gives him insulin injections twice a day and we keep returning to the conversation about how we ever became the enablers for a colony of mostly feral city damncats.
Goats. If we had put as much time, effort and money in raising goats as we have these damncats, we might have something more to show for our work.
Not only is there a demand for their milk and cheese, they are good for yoga according to a news report I saw on TV and videos on Youtube.
A goat rancher (shepherd?) and a yoga instructor somehow figured out that introducing baby goats into a class with a bunch of ladies practicing yoga added value to their experience.
The baby goats hopped onto the backs of the yoga-bent ladies and played among them as baby goats are wont to do, and it made everybody happy. So happy that introducing baby goats into yoga classes has caught on elsewhere. Everybody was smiling as was I just watching it.
That doesn’t happen much with damncats, at least not with the feral outliers that we have cultivated.
Some of the people might smile some of the time, but all the people aren’t smiling all of the time and some never.
And that’s a report from Laurel Street in Uptown New Orleans where our furry vector controllers go under-appreciated.