Hello again. Or initial hello. Whichever is appropriate. I’m thinking I’ll get some goats. Eventually. First I need to buy a house that is sufficiently land adjacent. And most likely outside the city limits. Also, I’ll have to check the ordinances and whatnot. I’m still sorting out the details. Details such as where exactly such a parcel exists within my price range. But while I search and, I ashamedly admit, perform CPR on my credit score, I jump ahead of myself to examine the benefits and pleasures of goat ownership.
I’m fairly convinced that multiple goat ownership is much more beneficial to the goat owner as well as the goat(s) than is owning merely one goat. The well being of the goat(s) being my primary concern, owning more than one goat severely reduces goat loneliness. But, too many goats can overpower a man. I suspect they probably get that hive mind thing going. Something akin to mistreated mine workers all somehow striking back at the sadistic, money hungry mine CEO’s (or whoever is in charge of mines) at the same time without any prior planning and violently making their plight known in no uncertain terms before coming back to their senses in puddles of blood with strands of intestine hanging from their fingertips and giving each other that Look. You certainly know the one I mean. The one where they’re all staring at each other as slowly it dawns on them that they’ve both venerated and condemned themselves in one fell psychotic swoop and they kind of smile and laugh and embrace one another. They apparently take comfort in each other’s gore slicked chests heaving one against the other. Maybe some of them cry. I think goats can do that. I don’t mean the crying part. They have those abominably hard skulls scantily padded with hair so coarse it could be used to strip paint from barns. And the gut stomping hooves. Two is the magic number, I think. They won’t get lonely yet they’ll be easy to quell should they ever uprise and I can jump over one without risking landing on the horns of another.
I spoke to some people I work with about the possible dangers of having goats around children. I worry about the headbutting. Someone suggested I get sheep, but I want an animal I can yell at. If the neighbors see me yelling at my goats they’ll just think something like hey, that guy is mad at his goats. However, if I were to be seen yelling at sheep, the witness would plausibly find me a most undesirable person and label me some sort of jerk.
I surmise goats could potentially be a cult repellent. I imagine myself accosted by men in black armed with pamphlets. I invite them in and suggest we retire to the back porch to enjoy an iced tea. The goats are out of their pen, chewing on the fence posts or trying to eat the driveway. I persuade the cultists to sit and make a show of admiring the beauty of the day. Unexpectedly, in a put on and ridiculously exaggerated hillbilly voice I exclaim “See that goat ov’ ‘ere by the fence? That’s Goat. And t’other goat yonder,” I pause to sip at my tea, set my glass on the wrought iron table and cross my fingers over my belly. I draw a deep breath and say with a sigh “That’s Other Goat.” I then stand suddenly and run bowlegged into the yard screaming “Hey you goat!! Quit eatin’ that fence post now y’hear? Stupid goat! Git yer goat self gone from there Goat!” No stranger to my ways could stand up to that. I guarantee it.
Goat soap. I’ve heard it can be done and I’m intrigued. Gonna try it.
I earlier stated that I worry about the headbutting. However, it occurs to me now that it could have useful applications in the dissuasion of misbehavior among children. When that age old fogeyism “Go to your room!” just doesn’t seem drastic enough, try “Go see the goat!”
And once again I bid you Adieu…and A don’t.
Adieu…consider the wonderflality of goat ownership.
A don’t…ever send your kids to see the goat in anger.