Never trust a goat

Never trust a goat

By Tracy Farr

I have three goats – a mamma and two twin daughters. I bought them from a little girl who knocked on my door one day, asking if I'd like to buy some goats. And since goats like to eat grass, I figured that I’d let them eat it (instead of me having to mow it), leaving me free to nap on the couch. I give a lot of credence to napping on the couch, especially when I’m supposed to be doing yard work.

I actually enjoy watching my goats, but the only reason they tolerate me is because I bring them food every now and then. If it wasn't for the food, they'd steal the credit card right out of my wallet, and head for the mall. They'd hang out with their little goat friends and eat Chinese food. It's a good thing they can't drive, but I suspect while I’m asleep they’re secretly learning how.

I’ve had these goats for almost a year now, and although they haven’t learned a thing from me, I have learned plenty from them.

Goats are sneaky. Don't trust them. They'll look you right in the eye as if to say, "You're my best friend," but when you turn your back, they'll head-butt you and start eating your new khaki pants. Sounds like people I know, but that's a different story.

Goats are noisy when they're hungry, and they’re always hungry. Their cries sound like the cries of children in pain – and the goats know it. Don't go running outside to see what's causing them agony. It's a trap. And they know how to build excellent traps.

Never give your goats a name. They never come when you call, so why go through the hassle. Besides, if you get tired of the goats and decide to barbecue them next Friday night for your visiting relatives from El Paso, who’s going to want to sit down to a plate full of Sassy or Hoppy?

It’s best to feed goats things like carrots, lettuce, and bananas, but never three-week-old chocolate cake. If you do, they'll stop eating the grass – and can you really blame them? No animal in its right mind would gladly munch on weeds and poison ivy after eating three-week-old chocolate cake. I know I wouldn’t. And if the goats stop eating grass, that means you have to mow it, which defeats the purpose of having goats in the first place.

Never turn your back on a goat. They have sharp horns. You may consider a simple impaling as mere playfulness, but I guarantee they mean to draw blood – and lots of it. They don't want you towering over them. They want you on the ground, writhing in agony, your life's blood pouring out of gaping wounds. As you look up at them, you'll notice their teeth are bigger than you thought. And why are they so big? “The better to eat you with, my dear.”

Goats can escape anything. Go ahead, pen them in as tightly as you can. Put little handcuffs around their little legs, put a burlap sack over their heads, throw them in a locked chest, bury the chest six feet deep, pour concrete in the hole, and park your car over the top. The goats will be out by morning, eating the neighbor's prized tomatoes – the ones your neighbor had planned to exhibit at the county fair.

Neighbors are very protective about their prized tomatoes. It's best to have your checkbook handy when they come to visit.

Goats don’t like standing out in the rain. They look so sad if they have to. So, you go to Lowe’s, buy some materials, draw up some plans and build them a goat shed. The goats love it and stand under it every time it rains, which gives you a wonderful sense of accomplishment. When it’s not raining, and the goats get bored of eating grass, they start eating the shed until it falls down. Goats don’t have a grateful bone in their bodies.

I'd eat my goats, but I promised the little girl who sold them to me that I wouldn't. Which leads me to the last thing I've learned: Never make promises to little girls selling goats. They're in cahoots with each other.