Around and about two years ago, I decided we must get two baby goats. I had seen cute videos, and our farrier's wife was selling them. Two good reasons, they are Pygmy Dwarf goats who came to us tiny and now have big bellies but are still short. For some unknown reason, the song 'Cisco Kid" by War began playing in my head. If you have never heard this song, you must check it out. In it, it says Cisco drank the whiskey, Pancho drank the wine. Well, one little guy certainly struck me as a Cisco. I could see him slurping whiskey and liking it too! However, after considering his brother, I could not, in all honesty, call him Pancho. This was not a goat who would drink wine. He just wouldn't! After much consideration, I named him Bambi. Soft, brown eyes, etc. So now we had the strangely named Cisco and Bambi. Well, that's life. But it was honest. It woke.
Later on, I went on one of my trips to Canada, and Ken was left in charge of the twins. Sister Kathleen approached him one fine day and asked if he would bring the goats to the hospital's nursing home. Kind of a show and tell for seniors. Ken agreed and hurried out to purchase two purple harnesses, little teeny ones that would fit the little teeny goats. After some thought, he decided to take two goats that might become more than anyone bargained for. He chose Cisco as the lucky goat to go, as he's the extrovert. The big day came, and Ken put on Cisco's little teeny purple harness, and they set out for the hospital. Trit trot, trit trot. Ken quickly discovered that a harness does not make a cooperative walker. Fortunately, Cisco was still portable, and Ken scooped Cisco up, still wearing his teeny tiny purple harness. Trit trot into the hospital. Everyone oohed and awed at Cisco.
However, the ladies decided they wanted to see Cisco up close and personal. "Put him on the table.", they urged Ken. Now, most, if not all, of these ladies came from farms or ranches, so they knew darn well what they were doing. Don't tell me differently! Ken was overruled, and Cisco was set up on the table in his teeny purple harness. He trit trotted back and forth, and everyone patted him. He was very well behaved until, well, the inevitable happened. He trotted into the center of the table, spread his little goat legs, looked around, and Niagara Falls was set loose over the table. Ken was horrified but was bailed out by a staff kindly bringing a bowl. He set it under Niagara Falls. Ken learned goats don't go often, but when they do, it's noteworthy! All the ladies were hugely entertained and laughed loud and long. The whole thing was highly unsanitary, but so much fun.
They tell you goats are experts at getting into trouble. When I told my Canadian vet we were getting goats, she got a little smile on her face and said, "You do know they're bad?" Well, it was kind of like being childless and someone telling you children are a lot of work. You hear what they're saying, but it isn't registering. Bad is too strong a word, I reflected. I would say mischievous. Well, potato, patato. They chomped on electrical wires, which Ken had to hang out of their reach. They teetered on the barbecue and scampered across the patio table. Ken went out one morning, and I heard a loud yell. His new jeans had a goat sized hole in them. I assured him they were making fashionable holes in his jeans. He was not impressed with my reasoning. You would think the yelling would upset the goats, and they'd know something very bad had happened. Not so. Another song came to mind called" Paddy McGinty's Goat. "It's a funny Irish song about Paddy's goat. As a child, I loved it. I didn't understand the whole thing but what I did understand was that Paddy's goat" didn't give a hang." I loved that about that goat. He really did not give a hang. Paddy's goat was my first idol. After dealing with the twins, I have a feeling that most goats don't give a hang.
Weeks and months went by, and the goats put on weight for the winter. They looked like balloons pumped up for the fair. Teetering back and forth on their little legs was hilarious. I had got into the habit of putting them in the larger part of the back yard for part of the afternoon. At first, when they were small, it was easy to pick them up and put them into their enclosure for the night. Each month the lift became a little more difficult. The sad day came when I could not lift them, and they would not go into their enclosure-crunch time. I called Ken for assistance; however, he couldn't budge the twins even with his strength. It was kind of like trying to lift a sixty-pound wiggling bag of cement with dangling legs. Well, now, what were we to do?
"Well, it was your idea to get the goats; it's up to you to figure this out," said Ken. Ok, so we were playing that game. We went back into the house to eat, trying to ignore the fuzzy faces pressed against the patio doors. I looked at the goats, and I looked at Ken. An idea was forming. It was quite brilliant if I do say so myself. However, I knew it might take some persuasion. "You know." I began, "they really like you!" I received a suspicious look from across the table. I continued, "I think they sense a bond." Silence except for chewing. "I mean," I continued, "you climb roofs all the time, and they love climbing too." A cold stare across the table. "Plus," I said, "I think they view you as a father figure. Even better, you have a beard. I imagine they think you're their Goat Daddy." Ken had stopped chewing. "I bet if you were to go out there, they'd follow you," I added, "it's worth a try." Well, this was just the seed of the idea. Ken had not seen the blossoming of that seed. That was soon to unfold. Out Ken went. The goats greeted him warmly but showed no signs of wanting to follow him. "You have to make it interesting for them," I encouraged from the deck. "Jump and run, cavort a little." Ken made a few halfhearted jumps. "Noooo," I yelled, "jump higher and prance around." What prancing and leaping ensued, the goats loved it. It was Goat Daddy! "Don't just go into their yard," I urged. "Lead them on a chase." Ken leaped and ran, and the goats leaped and ran. The things you see when you don't have a camera! My brilliant idea worked as they followed Ken happily into their yard. Well, of course, it doesn't work every time. But you need to try, don't you? I really think you do, and I encourage it!
