The Pursuit [Gotcher Goat 2]

It was a bright autumn morning, brisk enough to be invigorating. Indeed, it was perfect jogging weather, though that was always more fun with a partner. At least, that’s what the goat may have been thinking as she chomped through the last strands of her rope tether.1

Mom was looking out the kitchen window over a steaming mug of Postum, having gotten Dad and the older kids off to school. The little boys were still asleep. This was her tranquil time, before launching into the day’s activities. 2

Freed from the fence, Snowflake trotted down the little path to the kitchen door and let out a challenging bleat before veering off down the hill that was our back yard.3

Jolted from her reverie, Mom was stunned to see the goat trotting down the hill. What should she do? She was in her pajamas, robe, slippers and curlers. The goat had four legs and a head start. Would she even be able to catch it if she tried? The only reason we kept it was for the milk the new baby brother was able to tolerate better than mother’s milk or formula. The baby! Her resolve steeled, and she was out the door as quick as thought.4

She jogged down the grassy hill, past the blue trailer home and onto the dirt road, where the goat seemed to slow in order for her to get closer. Indeed, no matter how fast or slow she went, the goat maintained a steady 8 to 10 foot lead. Beyond the base of the hill, at the intersection, the goat took the one-lane rutted dirt road to the right. This dead-ended in front of a third-grade classmate’s home. David’s family kept the peacocks who woke us daily in the early predawn with their eerie lingering cries of “Heh-ELP! Heh-ELP!” The goat sped slightly, did an inside curl, and doubled-back past her pursuer. 5

At the intersection once again, she turned left, and headed back up our hill. Her hot, tired, pink-faced and dusty companion followed. Across the street from our house beyond the top of the hill was a Forest Service Station, whose white government-issue trucks came in and out through the course of the day. It was almost their starting time, and a handful of men loitered outdoors over coffee and donuts. After the hill, Mom had little breath left for asking for assistance. The men laughed at the sight, her blue robe flapping and pink curlers bobbing, and one called out “Hey lady! Did ya loose somethin’?”6

Incensed by the unhelpful laughter and blushing a darker shade of pink, she used her irritation to fuel a last burst of energy and closed the gap between her and the escapee. The goat seemed simultaneously to decide that she had completed sufficient exercise for the morning, and began to slow. At last it stopped to eat some lush grass and clover in a vacant field. Mom caught the dangling rope, and tugged and pulled the resisting and loudly bleating goat back to the house (past the Forest Service Station).7

That would have been the end of the story, except for the school newspaper. My little sister, in first grade, drew a stick-figure Mom with curlers, bathrobe, and fluffy slippers chasing a goat, with a couple grinning stick men off to the side with a word balloon saying “Hey, lady! Did ya loose something’?” A couple pieces of art were chosen from each grade…hers made the cut. Oh, and David, who was running late for school that morning, filled me in on the unexpected spectacle of seeing my Mom and the goat jog by! I think most rural neighbors have a low entertainment threshold…our family sure did (just not when Mom was in the room!)8