I shall tell you all about the goat.
When I was in my younger years maybe 10 or so...my Mom used to often traumatize me in the disguise of doing normal things, not really on purpose, but off and on during my childhood. I now traumatize my own children in return...the circle of life. Anyway, we were on our way home from church-I think- and I was in a nice summery dress and pantyhose and sandals. Funny how I remember what I was wearing, but not all of the exact details. Hmmm, it must be a result of all of my trauma. Okay, we stop by my Aunt's house -I think- and there is this goat, a nanny, that has wandered a few streets over to her house(Aunt's house). We stop and my Mom is always so kind and thoughtful-that was NOT sarcastic by the way- that she decided that the poor critter needed to be returned home. See, this is where the trauma starts. We were in a CAR! Yes, that's right, a car-as in not a truck-as in where does one put a GOAT in a car. Which leads to another very good question-I'm glad you asked- HOW does one KEEP a goat in a car....I know the answers to all of those very good questions. First, you have a young tender pre-teen girl dressed in her Sunday best. Second, you must know what field the goat came from. Third, you must have some power over this sweet girl to convince her that it is the best thing for her to sit in the back seat with a BIG-STINKY-FRIGHTENED goat, and hold it still. Than you just drive over a few streets, find the house it belongs to, and go to the door...wait about five billion years for someone to come to the door...and than just return the goat. That's it! That is the story of the goat...I lived and that's all that matters in the end I guess. Next I will tell you about the waterfall and who the goober was.
6 comments:
Julie, you funny gril. Make me laugh.
So what happened to your outfit - I'm sure your hose were done for...
My dad used to haul calves in our van (not constantly or anything - maybe once or twice).
J. you have the story partly right. Two goats, some horses got out of a pasture and were running down the frontage road. The horses ran back and forth across the major highway a couple of times through traffic and then decided to eat at the Catholic church. We followed one of the goats down the road and found her behind a convenience store. Then is when I put her in the car. We went back to my sister's and the owner drove in the driveway with the male goat sitting upright on the passenger side of his pick-up, like a dog.
I will never forget the look on your face when I shoved that goat into the back seat of that two door car. Har Har It will be interesting to hear Kay's version and my sister's version. Maybe together we can get the story correct. :)
I've completely repressed it. I have no memory of it whatsoever. Apparently my trauma was greater even than hers. Who knew a goat could be so frightening.
Maybe that's why they give me palpitations now.
Ok, I'm kidding about the palpitation part. I like goats. But I really don't remember this story at all. Are you sure I was there?
I do remember rescuing dogs and horses and a donkey. The horses and the donkey didn't go in our car, though.
Who was with us then? Was it one of my little ladies I picked up for church? When did we rescue a donkey?
we must have been at the church on the highway... maybe Mrs.A or Miss M. was with us. I don't remember Kay being there either. And Robin, my hose were trashed! I was upset about that I do remember. They were the cheapest ones, but still! I just remember how much it stank! I just knew I would stink too. Trauma,trauma,trauma!
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