Son of a motherless goat

His kids were making him feel old. Soon enough his older ones would be turning two. Two. It had been two years since their birth. How was that possible? How could he possibly be so old so soon? It felt like just yesterday that he'd turned two himself so how could he possibly be the father of three almost grown children? Already they could hold high ranks or even start or challenge for their own packs. Already - sub adults as they were - they could do so much. With this terrifying thought came another: his children could have children. He could be a grandfather.

The thought chilled him. That was not something he was prepared for. At all. Just thinking about his kids having kids or what it took to have kids made him want to lock them up somewhere safe. Old, old, OLD; he felt old. Even if he blocked out all of his older kids and what all their impending adulthood might entail he still had three young ones who were growing up way too fast. They grew like weeds and it felt like every day somehow managed to add an inch or two to their height.

Old. He was old. Pretty soon he'd start turning grey (grey...er?) and begin complaining about how much the weather hurt his bones.

With a harrumph Valentine flopped down beside his tractor.