Although her snout is a fragile high-tech smelling device, Sophia is perfectly capable of using it like a shovel to move stones and gravel in order to bury a precious piece of fresh meat [in this case, a chicken's head] that needs to spend a few days in the soil to make it soft, smelly and tasty.
In her Brittany home, Sophia's daughter, Gamone, now disposes of a lovely lawn on which to pursue her favorite pastime: playing with her soft red rubber ball. People get fed up being expected to toss the ball as far as possible, enabling Gamone to exhibit her talents as a footballer. Click on the following image to see a delightful demonstration of a sophisticated electronic gadget for launching tennis balls:
Sophia is now accustomed to the daily ritual of my billy-goat Gavroche calling in for a handful of cereals, served up in a silver dog dish.
I often say to myself that I should give Gavroche away to somebody with a few female goats, because I'm sure that my poor frustrated beast would like to get into action in the sexual domain. On the other hand, Gavroche has truly become part of the furniture at Gamone, and I would be sad to see him go. I'm currently looking into the idea of either hiring him out [free, of course] for procreative services, or maybe even accepting female goats here [in a small electric-fenced yard] for casual short-time encounters with Gavroche.