Thursday, April 19, 2012

The Goat Pen

A picture of me and the twins heading to the zoo. I look great in brown, obviously...
Morning Readers,

     Like FDR once said, "The only thing we have to fear is goats." That's why I hardly ever expose myself to Nature. That, and I also have a pretty poor grasp of history. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, goats weren't put here to be friends with us. They have less respect for us than blowfish, and that's really saying something. But, seeing as yesterday found us at the petting zoo, once again, I had to pick a pen to let the twins play in, and the one with the neediest animals seemed the best choice.

     Kick my children into the enclosure with the Bald Eagle and risk exterminating the species and a huge government fine, or let them fair with goats their own size? As I watched Butch and Sundance skip merrily through the gate, my warming heart told me I'd made the right choice.
It could've been Butch putting the first goat in a headlock.

It could also have been Sundance running so fast after a one, it keeled over from a heart attack and had to me removed with a shovel.

     "Shovel," I laughed. "We need a shovel over here."

     All around me, goats screamed in terror because they hadn't met the twins yet, and the twins hadn't ever been given the opportunity to hunt one in the wild. "Ma!" Butch tried to get my attention, in order to display the fact he'd cornered a shaggy one and wouldn't let it go. The goat, paralyzed with fear, looked to me for help.

     I shook my head. "Too late, goat. Tremble in fear at my offspring that have come to put you in your goat place." Small children and goats flocked this way and that. I caught Sundance trying to dive, headfirst, into the watering trough.

     "They're so cute, aren't they?" A woman next to me smiled.

     I agreed. "Honestly, I've never been more proud of my children. Did you see my son steal that goat's lunch money? He's the one with the sandy blonde hair. Looks like a tiny Robert Redford."

     "I was talking about the goats."

     "Oh. I see. Goat sympathizer....Good day to you Madam."

     Sensing it was time to go, I rounded up Butch and looked for Sundance, who was, as it turns out, entertaining a large crowd of non-English speaking students, the majority of which pointed at her through the bars and remarked that they didn't realize American baby goats wore sparkly pink shoes. She wouldn't have been so convincing if she hadn't bludgeoned a stray goat and been wearing it around her shoulders, all the while saying, "Baaaaah."

As always please air your feelings about goats. We all understand here.

Until Next Time, Readers!