I love goats! I'm unapologetic about it! I think they are smart. I think they think they are ppl. I can tolerate them more than actual ppl because their shortcomings are understandable. They really can't do better. I've always admired them.
I had one sad occassion with a goat. I was up as usual late at night and I heard a goat crying out in the road and I heard dogs. I paid it no mind because its a usual sound and the goats tend to fend for themselves and usually are in packs. After a while I decided to check it out and was horrified to discover that the dogs had drawn blood so badly that the goat had one intact leg (RR), cut but intact (FL), mangled but treatable (RL), f*cked up and dangling (FR). I dislike dogs, but I recognised that they were following their nature. I chased them off and picked up the goat who was scared of them and me. I carried him into the house and put him in my fenced off backyard. Problem was the smell of blood kept attracting the dogs. I was up the rest of the night to keep them from jumping the fence.
In the morning I realised that I would not be able to nurse this creature back to health without considerable help. I tried to feed him but he was still scared of me. I washed the wounds and bundled him up in the car and drove him to the JSPCA. They informed me that there was too much damage done and that they would have to put him down. I was saddened, until the man continued by asking why I didn't just kill him at home and have some curry instead of trying to save him. I looked around to see if I was at the right place ... "this is the jamaica society for the prevention of cruelty to animals right?" I recalled the 3 three-legged dogs in the yard that they were so proud of giving some semblance of a normal life. I looked at the pics on the wall about their rescue of an abandonned race horse out of a drain. I looked back at the man, controlled myself and walked out. I tell you honestly, I wished many bad things on him and wanted to damage him for his flagrant disregard for another life. Not one of my finer Christian moments but was a finer moment in learning to control my tongue and temper (God be praised - jail would not have been nice for me...I tend to drop the soap).
On a different note, I've known two goats in my life. Not enough fraternising if you ask me. I've missed out but I'm happy to have had those opportunities.
The first one I met as a kid. His name was "Cheezees" because he enjoyed eating cheezees snacks.... or was it because we were determined to feed him cheezees snacks. Anyway, he was a skinny kid when we met and I was in my late teens. He grew quickly in size and in our hearts. He belonged to our neighbours legally but we all went out to talk with him, pet him and enjoy his company. He'd allow us to pet him and we'd give him treats. Our neighbour's very old helper who had been with them for years was responsible for his care and she did an excellent job. He wasn't allowed in the house but he was moved in the yard at night to avoid confrontation with dogs.
In his older years (months for us) the dogs feared him instead. He had such strong horns and I would try to wrestle him. He'd just laugh (neighhhhhh). They took him to the country one weekend and all were hush hush. Our neighbours were migrating. Days later I was presented with a leg of Cheezees!
We made stew and curry and soup. He tasted very good. I missed him...... still do.
The second one I met was just afew months ago. He had been abandonned by his mother and was adopted by my neighbour who was used to rearing animals in the country. He kept the goat in his front yard and front porch at night. However, while he was out his wife and mother would allow the goat to come into the house. He would wonder around sniffing at everything. He watched television with them and ate with them.
Concerned that he would lose his pet to praedial larcenists, he took him to the country to live with a friend. He reports to me that the goat, used to staying inside the house, can't understand why this man won't let him in at night. So for the first few weeks he would knock on the door with his hooves at night when it was time for bed. Eventually they had to fix up a little pen for him so he'd be adjusted to sleeping out of doors.
Then like much of our youth he discovered weed. The man grows weed and puts it to dry in the higher parts of the pen. They noticed that weed was missing and that the goat was quiet in the days and refused to go out into the bush to eat. They put two and two togther and realised that they had an addict on their hands. I'm not sure if they are seeking help for him at this time, but I doubt it because in Jamaica it is thought that "weed is life". Right now they are hoping that he won't figure out the path to the field.
I wonder how that meat will taste?!