Now that I have your attention, it was actually Billy the Kid--an adorable white fluffy goat who lived for a brief time in our fenced backyard with our dog.
Why a goat you may ask? Not the usual pet that a ten or eleven year old would be interested in cuddling up to on a cold night. Digging through the family folk lore it seems I must have read a book about Abe Lincoln and discovered that his two sons had a goat in the White House. Whatever possessed me to think that this would be a good idea? I mean, really, a goat? Possibly the only connection I can see is that we did live in a white house but it was in the center of a small town--far from Washington DC.
What I do recall is that the adventure was, well, an adventure at first. Picture a sweet young kid with me carefully giving him a bottle I lovingly prepared. Oh, the bliss of goat ownership! I was in love with this precious animal. Visions of me running through our house chasing after this bundle of joy had me IN the White House sans Abe and his family.
Unfortunately, the experience of home living was short lived for this creature and it was over before the running of the house was even an issue. It began when sweet little Billy's horns reached a point that aligned with my backside. One ram too many as I bent over to fill his grain bucket sent me screaming to the house to announce that it was time for this mangy mean devil to find a new home---much to the relief of my parents. By the way, what were they thinking? Saints--they must have been saints (dog included).
End of a goat herders story. Wish I could post a picture of this episode of my life but alas, I'm sure good old Billy ate every last one...when he wasn't butting into my you know what.
Thanks for reading # 145 of 7777.
Why a goat you may ask? Not the usual pet that a ten or eleven year old would be interested in cuddling up to on a cold night. Digging through the family folk lore it seems I must have read a book about Abe Lincoln and discovered that his two sons had a goat in the White House. Whatever possessed me to think that this would be a good idea? I mean, really, a goat? Possibly the only connection I can see is that we did live in a white house but it was in the center of a small town--far from Washington DC.
What I do recall is that the adventure was, well, an adventure at first. Picture a sweet young kid with me carefully giving him a bottle I lovingly prepared. Oh, the bliss of goat ownership! I was in love with this precious animal. Visions of me running through our house chasing after this bundle of joy had me IN the White House sans Abe and his family.
Unfortunately, the experience of home living was short lived for this creature and it was over before the running of the house was even an issue. It began when sweet little Billy's horns reached a point that aligned with my backside. One ram too many as I bent over to fill his grain bucket sent me screaming to the house to announce that it was time for this mangy mean devil to find a new home---much to the relief of my parents. By the way, what were they thinking? Saints--they must have been saints (dog included).
End of a goat herders story. Wish I could post a picture of this episode of my life but alas, I'm sure good old Billy ate every last one...when he wasn't butting into my you know what.
Thanks for reading # 145 of 7777.
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