Goat Hell

To fully appreciate the story I'm about to share you need to understand that I'm not really fond of our goats. They're huge. A couple hundred pounds each. Male. And have massive curling horns that look rather wicked and sharp. DH swears that they're nice and I know that they are because we got them from some wonderful people. They're just big. And they like to play and don't realize they're bigger and stronger than you are. DH has no problem with them but the girls are scared of them and I have to say that I avoid the barn whenever possible.

Last Thursday morning that wasn't an option. I had woken up early because I was packing for a weekend away, had to get the girls ready for school and myself off to work. I needed the extra time if everyone was to arrive at their destination on time with paraphernalia in tow. What I got instead was a knock at my door (which never happens) at 7:15 AM. The woman, a neighbor I've never met (Not unusual. We live in the county and everyone pretty much leaves everyone else alone.), tells me - while the dog is trying to tear through the glass door - that my goat is out and charging her son waiting outside for the bus. Uhhh, then why are you standing on my porch alone?!?

Obviously, despite the fact that our goat is huge and I have no authority/control over it, I can't let it terrorize the neighborhood children. So after calling DH (who works 45 minutes away) I told the girls to stay in the house with the dog so I could go assess the situation.

I wasn't even halfway down my driveway before I realized the goat in question was not ours. It wasn't big enough. But no one else in the neighborhood has goats and this woman is walking behind me still in a panic over her son. Me, being the wonderful neighbor I am, decide that despite the fact this thing is not ours I can't leave it. So, I get the goat's attention and get her to follow behind me. She walks from the neighbor's place down the street, along my driveway, through my carport and into my back yard precisely five paces behind me. Whenever I stop she stops. When I walk she walks. She's also started crying. Loudly.

I realize she's lost, lonely, scared and probably hungry. She saw the boy and mother standing outside and thought people and ran to them for help. Only what they saw were her big horns.

Now I'm emotionally involved in this poor thing. I'm late. I'm not packed. The girls aren't ready for school and I should be leaving. Instead I spent fifteen minutes trying to get the goat into our pasture. She wouldn't go more than halfway through the gate because of our huge male goats who are now trying to escape. One goat wrangling a day is my quota so I slammed the gate shut with her on the outside and our goats trying to knock the thing down to get out to her.

Luckily, Sweet Pea choose that moment to come outside. I enlisted her help in trying to cajole our goats away from the gate with treats - something they'd usually stand on their head for. But no. They're more interested in the first female goat they've seen in a year and a half. After many fruitless attempts I'm about to give up when Baby Girl opens the door and lets Jack out into the yard. The dog went CRAZY. He's chasing the goat who is running a circle around Sweet Pea - who is screaming her fool head off - in an attempt to find sanctuary from the yapping, snapping thing on her tail.

I'm late, frustrated, cold, wet and now scared that my child is going to get accidentally gored by someone else's goat. Needless to say, the goat was not in our fence when I left. However, she was standing beside the carport crying as I pulled the van out of the driveway. I felt like a complete heel. We were hoping she'd stay around knowing that we had food and other goats. Unfortunately, she didn't. However, our youngest goat bleated for her for a day and a half. We really need to get the poor thing a woman.

Instigator

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