My Grandfather bought us goats

-Every now and then a thought or memory crosses my mind that I feel compelled to pass along before I forget it.

-This is one such occurrence.

-When my brother, my cousins and I were younger, we would visit our grand-daddy Jim and grand-mother Dolores down in Kings Mountain each summer for a week or so. Sometimes me and Brad would be there the same time as our cousins Michael and Robbie. Sometimes we would be there different weeks.

-Anyway, Grandmother and Granddaddy always wanted us to have a good time so they would have stuff lined up to entertain us. Sometimes it was ice cream, sometimes it was putt-putt, sometimes it was board games, sometimes it was cards. And sometimes, it was goats.

-Grandaddy has had a barn for as long as I've been around. Mostly, he's had cows and horses. He almost exclusively raises cows just as a hobby. He's gone to livestock auctions (sale barns) forever, and he'll go for as long as he can I suppose. At these sale-barns, you can get all kinds of livestock...including GOATS!

-Well Jim figured (rightly so) that we would enjoy having a pet goat for the weeks we came to visit. And why not? They're cheap, easy to take care of, and they can keep a kid busy; especially one as simple-minded and as easily entertained as me.

-I guess we should have taken his advice when he said, "don't go getting to attached to that goat. He/she won't be around long."

-Well, I didn't listen. I almost ALWAYS named the booger Billy. I would feed Billy hay, I would feed Billy grass, I would pet Billy, I would run around with Billy, and I would take Billy for walks...Have you ever tried walking a goat? It's basically like hooking a cat to a leash...they ain't made for taking on walks. Anyway, I'd get attached to the goats, and it would almost always end poorly.

-Sometimes the goats would be treated to the finest lodging experience in one of Jim's old trailers. Other times, the goats would be treated to a rope and a tree. Let me tell you something my friends; these "Billy's" were up against heavy odds. If they got the royal treatment in the trailers, they would either be targeted by the "foreign" people down the road who had a "fancy" for goat delicacies, or they would be at a sale barn the next week going to God knows where entertaining some other redneck ankle-biter looking to party down at the barn. However, these "trailer" goats were the lucky ones.

-It was the other "Billy's" who didn't have it so good and who are now "baa-aaa-a-ing" with the angels. It was these guys that got the rope and tree treatment. Don't get the wrong idea; Granddaddy Jim never planned for the goats to get hurt, but things just happened. Anyway, it is now crucial to the story that I mention that Jim and Dolores live in a part of North Carolina that had an overly large population of wild, stray dogs at the time. Wild stray dogs are ruthless hunters of the American southeastern plains. They hunt by sense of fear. They intimidate just as many potential prey into submission as they do run them down. Friends, a "goat on a rope" is no challenge at all for a K-9 killer with the instincts of a honey badger.

-Needless to say, my childhood relationships with the Billy's were short lived and traumatic. Sometimes I would be told the stone-cold truth. Other times, I would be told nothing...The rope would be there when I went outside, but Billy would not. It was a tough lesson in reality that I'm glad I got. Things aren't always peachy. Sometimes, things get rough and tough. Sometimes a pet goat is more vulnerable than a candy bar at Fat Camp.

-I may have a pet or two in the future. I may buy a dog or get a fish aquarium. I may throw a hamster in a plastic orb. But I don't know if I'll ever have another goat. At least not right now. It's just too soon