In recent weeks the farm has been receiving dropped-off donations for our annual yard sale. People have driven relatively long distances to make their donations. Which is touching and kind. And then they say, “You know, I really need to meet Mr. Newman Goat”.
I don’t begrudge Mr. Newman his international reputation, but at times it’s all just a bit overwhelming. Just this week on a sheep-related discussion list, the talk turned to vehicles and transporting animals in various types of vehicles. I shared the photo story of Mr. Newman’s car entry techniques and what happens?
All these wonderful people, these gentle people, these sweet peace-loving shepherds who never before thought that breaking and entering was cute, these kind folk who before only thought of sheep – nice, docile, obedient,
non-car-thieving sheep … are suddenly enamored with Mr. Newman and demanding that he go on Letterman. My conflicting emotions are roiling about in me: pride, alarm, sadness that none of my sheep know how to break
into cars, more alarm.
Mr. Newman is looking extraordinarily fine these days. He has shed the winter poundage and his coat is as sleek as a racehorse’s. He’s in top form for food stealing, sheep bashing, and he even took on one of the steers the other day. Mr. Newman is now nearly seven years old – the peak of his career. I suppose, in fact, it IS time to try to find him more media
I often think about what Newman would be like if he were a human. I think he would wear wrap around sunglasses, tight jeans, and drive a black vehicle with tinted windows. Fast. I imagine he would be divorced several times over, and might have a facial scar from a bar brawl — that would be amazingly attractive to females. He would likely have held a wide variety of jobs, and currently make a great deal of money doing things that no one wants to know about. His IQ would be way above normal, and he would chew minty smelling gum. He might occasionally sport a very small goatee (yes, really). He’d be on his cell phone all the time calling his “contacts” and would have to leave parties and interrupt conversations suddenly with only a, “Sorry, gotta go”. Ah, he’d be a heartbreaker.
The truth is, Mr. Newman Goat has caused more damage to this property and my person, and more annoyance to everyone around him than can ever be calculated. He’s required that I grow a third arm to manage him while doing all the other farm chores, that I assign a special detail to him during our events, and that I up the voltage on my sense of humor a hundredfold.
Frankly, I can’t imagine life without him.
Till next time,
Star Gazing Farm 501(c)3
A haven for retired farm animals and wayward goats