That’s right, my husband is now in another country and he has left me with Goatie.
Oh I know, I know, he promised to bring Goatie back to where he came from but here’s what happened instead.
The day before he left, I was feeling nostalgic and the irony of him leaving me and our two young sons on Father’s Day did not pass unnoticed. For two weeks now he’d been saying that he would drive by the house during the day but never saw the man who gave us Goatie outside. I suggested that if he didn’t want to push the button at the gate, maybe he could leave a note in their mailbox and ask for a call back. For days, he was going to leave a note with his phone number, but he never did.
He asked, “Do you want me to show you where the house is?” so naturally I said yes because knowing the Source Of The Goats when one wants to get rid of their goat is probably a good idea.
Just one street up from ours, we turned right and he said,”It’s the second house with goats, not the first.”
Sure enough, we drove past one house with a yard full of giant goats and then to the next house where all of the goats were tiny.
As we stopped and observed the property, he commented on the fact that the goats all looked like dwarf goats, unlike Goatie who is supposed to be a Nigerian Dwarf Goat but now we could all clearly see why they picked him in particular to get rid of – he is now about three or four times the size of these tiny goats and not only that, he still has only one horn and it is still growing by curling under and possibly piercing his cranium, but no one can tell because he won’t let you get that close.
The gate was closed, the house was flanked with five or six cars and trucks, but neither of us really wanted to check for a button to push at the gate so we could say,”Would you please take back that goat you gave us a year ago March?”
Turns out, that’s kind of a hard thing to do.
So I said with a sigh,”How am I going to get him here if I need to? I can’t get him in the car.”
“Of course you can. Just throw a granola bar in the back.”
“He won’t be able to get all the way up there.”
“Julie, he’s not a dog, he’s a goat. Does he jump on top of the trash can every day?”
“Oh. Yeah.” See? Even I am convinced that the goat is a dog at this point, since he travels in a pack with my dogs.
“He’ll jump in right after it. If you don’t want to drive him, walk him.”
“I can never get him to let me put a leash on him.”
“No, what you do is you put a leash on Nader and open the door and the goat will follow you and the dog.”
“For two miles??”
“I’m not so sure about that. What if he wanders off to eat something and I’m stranded half way there with a goat trotting across Caloosa Boulevard in traffic?”
Naturally there was no answer for that and so we returned home to do the final packing and set up Skype.
I drove him to Miami, and now he’s been gone for four days with almost no communication since the WiFi is apparently not working in the hotel and there is a limit to how much we are willing to pay Verizon.
Summer camp has begun, the tooth fairy has come and gone. Mami lost the mastiff’s medicine so the dog’s been whimpering all night and limping all day, the roof is wrapped due to the leak and we are fully into Florida summer where it pours every afternoon.
This is merely an update because my husband is not here (gah! I have no one to talk to first thing in the morning!). I shall continue on the path of doing all of his chores and I’m off to try to drive the garbage to the street. My back has been out and I would prefer the garbage not to topple over on me but there is a limit to how much garbage I can take and it’s got to go no matter what today, so I’ll let you know how it goes.
Fear not because this whole experience has spawned a road to fascinating spiritual discovery as well as a session with Lori who is a Reiki Master Healer and I will tell you all about it next time if the Goat doesn’t trample me or the house doesn’t float away in the interim.