Animal News: The Chronicles of Newman and other Stories
Goat in the Dog House
20 February, 2004
It has taken 3 days for the human in this story to see any humor whatsoever. Outsiders, oddly, seem to think it's hysterical.
Mr. Newman Goat has had an intermittent project around the farm for nearly two years - you know the kind of project, we all have them (like you paint half a wall at a time of that old laundry room but it never really quite gets done). One one occasion we believe that he circumvented the project by entering my office (which doubles as a feed storage center) through an open window in the wee hours of the morning. Most of the time, however, in goatly fashion he has merely worked at butting the heck out of the French door leading into the coveted room.
Over time he successfully removed several strips of plastic on the outside, exposing that precious glass (these days doors are so cheaply made, but, I might add, not cheap to replace.... made of steel with plastic outlines of the three-across windows). He certainly did manage to alter the shape somewhat of the door (total aside, it would be interesting to know just how many pounds per square inch a goat's head can pack). And of course every time he butted too loudly or long I reached for the goat treats to shut him up. This is what is called 'Goat Training'. "Bang on door, get treat. Bang louder, get more treats. Scream and bang, and human comes outside and we wrestle. And then I get treats. Good deal."
Anyhow, you all know where this is going.
Tuesday around 10:13 am Newman finally had a breakthrough - literally. One thing he didn't count on was the double-paned glass, which shattered inward (creating millions of spiderwebby-looking things all over the door). Does anyone know what it feels like to worry about leaving the house because a
200 pound goat (yes, he keeps growing) may break in? Why is it so hard to
garner sympathy on this....
Furious, I let the entire county know what has happened. Out I go in pajamas. I have the flu. Of course. I try to push this guy off the porch long enough so I can tape plastic to the door so that a million pieces don't go flying all over. He growls, rears (I swear he's 7 feet tall - I'm nearly 6' and he was towering over me) and lunges. If I hadn't been so mad I would have been terrified. I try again. Push Off Porch. "Newman, scram, you $*!$&$ goat!" This time he just eats the duct tape.
Long story short, I disassembled a desk and braced the outside of the door with its top. Carpenter Mike is coming tomorrow to help install a brand new door - NOT a French model. And Newman and I are almost on kissing terms again. Almost.
Until next time,
Farmer Anne
Star Gazing Farm
http://www.stargazingfarm.org
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