Goats are the best people.

Summary

The author recounts the humorous and heartfelt story of their childhood pet goats, which were adored but ultimately rehomed after they ate the author's mother's cherished garden plants.

Abstract

The narrative titled "Pet Story" under the main heading "Goats Are The Best People" is a personal anecdote about the author's childhood experience with two pet goats. Despite the author's and their sister's deep affection for the goats, the animals' penchant for escaping and devouring the mother's precious plants led to their relocation to a new home. The story highlights the joy and chaos brought by the goats and the eventual acceptance of their fate. It concludes with a reflection on the various pets the family had, including a resilient dog and a mean horse, and reveals a surprising twist about the goats' final destination.

Opinions

The author has a strong affinity for animals, considering them fun, quirky, and non-judgmental companions.
The goats are portrayed as mischievous yet lovable creatures, capable of bringing immense joy to the author and their sister.
The mother's love for her garden is juxtaposed with the goats' natural inclination to eat plants, setting the stage for the conflict in the story.
The author implies a sense of resignation and understanding regarding the goats' relocation, acknowledging that their mother's attachment to her garden outweighed their attachment to the goats.
There is a hint of naivety and innocence in the author's initial belief that the goats were already living in "goat-heaven" with them, which is contrasted with the mother's pragmatic decision to rehome them.
The revelation about the goats' fate, suggested by the mother's comment about Eva having enough meat, introduces a darker humor and a possible cultural or personal perspective on pet ownership and utilitarian views on animals.

When your parents bite off more than they can chew

I like animals. They’re fun, can be quirky (think llamas!), you can shower them with love and attention (sometimes they will respond!), they rarely judge you (apart from the odd cat…), you can pat (most) of them.

When I was a child I loved animals. I begged my parents for a dog. I was dog mad. Dog obsessed. I memorized breeds of dogs and why they were good (or not) and their features and whether they were good with families. I bought a retractable dog lead at age 11 before I actually had a dog!

My sister loved animals too. She loved horses. She was horse mad. Horse obsessed. She pretended she was a horse (when she wasn’t pretending to be my pet dog). But this is not about the dog I eventually got. This is about my goat. Well, actually, the two goats my little sister and I had when we were young.

Instead of a horse or a dog, they bought GOATS! They bought us two adorable little goats. I have no idea what breed they were… I may have to ask Jonica Bradley for some advice about that…but they were adorable. Tiny little hooves, fluffy little beards, little fluffy, waggy tails. Super cute! My sister and I were ecstatic!

The thing is, my parents had obviously just thought, “goats are smaller and easier than a horse, let’s do it!” Or something like that. Because my mum loves plants. Really loves them. Plant obsessed. Everywhere we have lived, she has grown and developed a beautiful garden, even a luxurious array of indoor greenery when we lived in a townhouse in Edmonton, Canada. (That’s another pet story though…you’ll have to stay tuned!).

And goats eat plants. They eat any kind of leafy, green, not green, grassy-looking plant type thing. You can see where I’m going here, can’t you?

We loved those goats. They had a little pen we kept them in, then we chained them up to the clothesline for a while so they kept the grass down. We lived 10 km (6 miles) from the nearest town. We had space! Lots of it. Plus a lagoon to swim in. These goats were in goaty heaven! They had two girls who loved them, hugged them, played with them and fed them. They had space to wander and roam and eat. To their heart's content. They were wonder-goats!

They were also very smart. They could escape any pen, fence, gate, rope or chain. Regular Houdinis! Probably because they thought it was fun. But equally as plausible, their insatiable desire for food.

My mum loved her garden. Goats love plants. It was always going to end badly.

One day, we got home from an annual holiday. A week away, probably at the beach (because we lived inland in Australia, and despite living beside a river and lagoon, there is nothing quite like the sound of waves and the salt in your hair!). We had been hugging our little goats. Greeting them with kisses and tales of our beach adventures. It was then we heard the scream. The blood-curdling yell of pure anger, coming from deep within my mother’s body. My sister and I looked at each other. This was not good!

She was in tears, our mum. Crying because our wonder-goats had eaten every single leaf off the creeper she had been nurturing for years. Every. Single. Leaf. For as high up as they could go! They had even climbed up onto the table to reach higher. Big fat juicy green leaves! All gone.

It was at that moment that my sister and I knew that our wonder-goats’ days were numbered. Deep inside (and perhaps even whispered to each other as my mum cursed the goats with every expletive we had never heard!), we knew their time was up.

Not too long after the ‘welcome home denuding of the plants’, our goats went off to live, in what my mum called, goat-heaven. We thought they already lived in goat-heaven — with us! We loved them! But apparently she had found another place, where they could roam free with other animals, have a nice life and enjoy all the goaty things with a nice lady who worked for my dad, called Eva.

My sister and I accepted this. We were sad. We missed their fluffy goaty beards and their cute waggy tails. And we might have got distracted by the fact THAT WE GOT A DOG!!!! (Yes!! A dog! finally!!)

(TEN YEARS LATER)

My sister and I were reminiscing about all our great pets as kids. The funny stories. The duck we thought was male until I found 17 eggs in a nest in the garden. How dad ran over our dog (and it lived). The nasty horse we had that tried to knock us off on branches. And the goats.

My mum casually turned to us and said, “Oh yeah, those goats. (*insert eye roll). I’m sure Eva had enough meat in her freezer for a few months.”

Lisa likes writing. She likes animals. She writes quite a bit of poetry. She is not (too) scarred by her childhood pet experiences. Lisa has done all sorts of things in life including parenting, teaching, waiting tables, working with long-term unemployed and singing in a rock band. She currently works at a maritime museum.