Goats in the car...that's gone to far
Goats in the van...a very bad plan
Goats in the Vette...husband won't let
Goats in the truck...wish me luck!!!
Saying yes to the two Humane Society goats wasn't that hard...getting them home was another story.
The goats wouldn't fit in the Subaru and goat poop in the mini van just didn't sound like a good idea. They would probably fit in hubby's corvette with the top off but I liked being married so squashed that thought immediately. Our old and much loved 3/4 ton '72 Chevy pickup seemed the right choice for getting the critters home. After grabbing some rope I roared off in my old truck feeling very smug that I had found the perfect weapons for my war on the Frankinberries (my name for those freekishly aggresive and incredibly resiliant blackberry vines).
At the Humane Society they took me around back to a delapitated old garage. Once the door was raised and my eyes adjusted I could see my new charges for the first time. Now never having owned goats before, I didn't know what to expect but I surely wasn't ready for...Horns! I knew mountain goats had horns but certainly didn't know that domestic goats could have them. These weren't your cool curley Q horns either but stick straight out of your head pointed demon horns. What if they didn't like me? What if they decided to chase me with those things? Getting gored by a goat just didn't sound like my thing.
I must have had that "what the heck" look on my face and sensing my growing doubt the nice lady rushed to assure me that they really were sweet goats and the horns were no need for alarm, besides I could always remove them. What? Remove them with what, a hacksaw? I could hear it now, "Honey, can I borrow you hacksaw,? I need it to saw the horns off the goats." Hubby's face came into view... torn between horror and pity, he would belive that his once sane and gentle wife had gone completely around the bend.
While I stood there conflicted the goats stood staring at me slowly chewing mouthfuls of hay. They did seem rather harmless standing there barely moving except their bearded chins going up and down. I walked into the garage for a closer look, hmmm they looked bigger up close, funny how that works! The larger was taller than my waist at its head, add the horns and it was closer to chest height. Who knew goats could grow that tall? The smaller was only an inch or so shorter, both healthy size by goat standards. Then again I reasoned, the bigger the animal the bigger the appetite for blackberry vines. After letting them smell my hand they both stood very calmly while I petted them, paying little attention to me after that. First contact went smoothly, suspiciously smoothly, it could not be that easy...not that easy at all I would find out in the following months...but for now all was calm.
I filled out all the paperwork and two volunteers each leading a goat followed me to the truck. How do you get a goat to jump in the back of a truck? The same way you get a goat to do anything...food! The helpers put a small bucket of grain in the back of the pickup and quick as you like they both nimbly jumped into the bed of my old pickup. They were both tied to opposite sides of the bed just behind the cab with what we all thought was the proper length of rope, yeah we thought is just right the goats proved otherwise.
After waving goodbye to the all the Humane Society people, who by the way had huge grins on their faces (which I thought at the time was their "their goes such a nice lady to adopt our goats" grins, but I later came to believe were their "she has no clue and those goats are gonna run all over her" grins) I started my truck and off we went.
At first all went well, we were in town and were going very slowly. OK, I was getting a few honks and strange looks from passerbys but the goats seemed nonphased by all the fuss and didn't mind riding in the truck. I was starting to relax and think this was gonna be a piece of cake, that was just before we hit the on ramp for the highway...yes, highway!
I was just beginning to enter traffic on the highway when I heard a loud clatter on the roof of the cab. What the heck was that? I glance back to see that the biggest goat somehow had enough rope to let it put its front legs up on the roof of the cab. I was now driving down the highway with a goat peering out over the cab of my truck, his beard blowing in the wind. The smaller goat was leaning out as far as it could over the side of the bed, just like a dog (well without the tongue hanging out) watching the cars go by. Oh no what if the goat gets all the way on the cab, what if the other goats hangs itself over the side? Should I pull over and try to tie them shorter? Or should I just drive as fast as I can and get home hoping they just stay where they are? I chose the latter, I didn't want to pull along a busy highway and be wrestling in the back with two goats almost as big as me, so I took a calculated risk they weren't stupid enough to jump out at 60 mph. Thankfully I guessed correctly and they stayed put. At least my fellow travelers found all this amusing, I cannot even begin to tell you the looks, laughs, and near accidents I caused on that thankfully short stretch of highway. I even got a couple of grins from passing truckers whom I am sure had seen it all ...well now they have anyway!
The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. Goats dismounted the truck quite nicely. I found the biggest, baddest patches of blackberries I could and staked them next to those. Then I sat back on the grass and watched with delight as they started munching away at those monster vines. As I sat there I was pondering my next dilemna...what am I gonna tell my sweet hubby? He knew nothing of the phone call from the Humane Society, he knew nothing of my trek into town or the cargo I returned with. He had no idea that when he came home from work there were going to be two goats in the yard..our goats!
LOL...what is funny is that these two were just the beginning of the critters my long suffering hubby would come home to!
