What to do when a Goat thinks it’s a People Too

tammy's goat

“I’m a People Too”

This picture came to me by email today, from my cute sister, Tammy.  She loves animals as you can see.  I do not.  Her email subject…

“So, he is a little confused as to whether he is a ‘people’ or a goat.”  

Her husbands quick reply?…”What the heck?!?!?!?  Don’t make me come home*€£<|}\~%!!!!!”  Ahhhh, this is my family.  Humor is the best medicine, and well.  I guess that makes us a healthy lot.  Imagine my confusion as to how the goat managed to make it all the way onto the couch… inside the house, through the kitchen, through the dining room, the hall, and into the family room and onto the couch.  Is the goat confused?  Or is my sister confused? Did she let the thing in?  Because last I checked goats don’t have opposing thumbs and cannot open a door.

I did manage to notice the nudging memory coming forward from the hidden place of deep and away

The childhood memory of chasing our goats out of our house.  Constantly.  I allowed the memory to develop fully.  And chuckled when I realized how often these surprisingly stupid animals thought they were peoples and entitled to all things human.  They hovered around the porch steps, just waiting for a small child to forget to close the door upon entering or exiting.  All they needed was a moment to dash up the six steps and into the house.  The goat that was most confused as to her station in life was “Whitey.”  She was white with large black spots.  She was as stupid as any goat ever born on this earth.  And she thought she was a people.  She would slide to a stop as her slippery hooves hit the linoleum floor, once she made it successfully inside the door.  Then she would proceed to wander farther into the house, seemingly content to finally be where she belonged.  Unfortunately for her, her cow’s bell around her neck gave her away instantly.  I have vivid recollections of my mama stopping whatever household task she was in the middle of, clapping her hands out in front of her as she ran full stride towards that stupid goat and yelling “Whitey!!! Get out! Get out!”

That poor goat

In spite of how many times this happened (did I mention goats were stupid), she would realize her sudden predicament, and in shear terror would try her hardest to move quickly towards the door to escape her pending punishment.  But all she would do was stay in one place as her hooves completely failed her on the linoleum floor, and she would look like a black and white blob of a thing with ten legs spinning and sliding and sometimes all going flat as the blob fell helplessly to the floor.  Now, as if that isn’t enough…  you also may not know, unless you have had stupid goats, that they poop about every four seconds.  More I imagine if they get scared.  Because I swear we would collect enormous amounts of goat poop after my mama managed to get the big blob of a goat back outside.  You would think that one experience like this would deter Whitey from ever trying it again.  Have I mentioned that goats are stupid?  Yes, this was a recurring incident for as long as we owned a goat and a house.  Occasionally, two goats would make it into the house.  Always the second one was “Brownie” (I don’t suppose I have to describe what this one looked like).  I believe Brownie was one of Whitey’s children.  It seemed that he (or she, I can’t quite remember), was always Whitey’s partner in crime.

So in my sister’s defense…

I do remember that goats can be quick about getting into a house when they want to.  However.  It seems our goats always got in through doors that were left open by small mindless children.  And Tammy doesn’t have any of those presently at home.  So I still have to wonder how in the tarnation did that goat get into her house.  She hasn’t replied to my inquiry about this.  So I can’t answer that question here.  But it does present an interesting thought process in my simple mind.

You cannot train a goat.  You cannot make it remember what happened the last time it did something naughty.  You cannot make a goat smart.

So what do you do when a goat thinks it’s a people too?

You do exactly what my mama did.  You run after it pell mell, making as much noise as you can, scaring the poop right out of it, until it exits said house.

Or you just fence it in.


More musings from me…

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