I would love to be considered the (s)hero of the universe. Unfortunately, I have an information disclosure problem. I give too much of it and effectively perform my own character assassination on a regular basis. Oh well, human fallacy makes a much better story than a litany of triumph.
My remaining baby goat was languid and lonely after the death of her companion. I called the goat man and asked if he had another nanny baby for sale. I admit that I lied to him before he lied to me. I didn't tell him I was taking nanny-baby to the home of a murderous dog, even if I do have a fence worthy of Fort Knox now. I claimed I'd found you can't split two goats between three grandchildren, so I needed another pet. He promised to bring the nanny baby to the flea market.
Goat man sent his daughter, goat girl, to the flea market. I told her I was there to pick up another nanny baby. She said, "I got a nanny pygmy, but she's full grown. Then I got me some Arpachee's back there." I told her I didn't even know what an Arpachee was (might have been that I couldn't understand the Tennessee twang). She explained, "They got no ears". I wasn't sure I wanted a defective goat with no ears, nanny baby or not, but I was curious to see one. Two little goat babies with elfin ears were lying in the cage. She swore they'd grow up to be "pretty good sized goats" and I wasn't interested in the adult pygmy. So I chose the brown one.
As she was loading the goat into a crate, I made a disturbing discovery. The goat seemed to be endowed with something that's not standard equipment on a nanny. "Uh….did I just buy a billy goat?" I asked like the city-slickin' fool I am.
"Yeah, he's a billy. Real nice little fella. He won't give you no trouble," she assured me as she closed the door on the crate. I didn't want a billy; they get stinky and sometimes mean as they get older. (Hmmm…kind of like some men I've known.) But this was a goat emergency. I had to have a goat and I had to have it right fast. Oops. Spent too much time with goat girl. I'm starting to sound like her. So that's how I ended up driving home with a billy goat in the back of my truck.
His name is Goober; 'cause that's how I felt, shopping for a nanny and coming home with a billy goat.
Monday August 21, 2006