The Cookie and the Stick

I was informed by a friend that, “…anyone who can train a goat can make a million dollars.”. A million bucks in the bank, or under the bed, would be nice so I set out to do it.

Remember the kids? I brought them home in May last year and they grew up to be goats. House goats. Billy and Kim, named after two of my children. That was the start. Now all I had to do was train them and be able to pass this valuable skill on to others who might want to train a pair of house goats.

First of all, they were-and are-darling. A little big bigger. A whole lot bigger-as a matter of fact-and a whole lot smarter. Trust me on this one, goats are very bright and put two of them together and the mind of a human being is taxed to out wit them.

They have a keen curiosity. Interested in everything. Anything new is to be explored, tasted, and touched. They sniff and nibble. They love things that clatter. They can open doors and unsnap snap hooks and do other wondrous feats for a creature that has no hands.  They love to carry thing in their mouths and delight in the chase to get them back. They climb trees.

They love and are attracted to red, bright colors, and shiny things.

They love to jump and run and buck and leap like fairy tale horses. And, like horses, they can’t be potty trained.

They have distinct personalities. Kim, the little white nanny, is much smarter than Billy. She’s the alpha goat. She has a powerful sense of justice. When I finally had to restrain one she was the first. One was to stay put  in clean, comfortable,  and expansive quarters while the other ran free and I switched them around-so far so good- but when I unchained her that first day she  put on a wild west show to end all wild west shows. She tried to butt. She came at me on her hind legs striking. A blow with one of those cloven hooves can be quite painful. She spoke to me with her  blue eyes sparking fire, her voice crackling with goat annoyance.

They do have a vocabulary. They speak and communicate with each other. On that  day  her usual pleasant little goat bleats were snorty, quick, and grumpy. She voiced, quite plainly, what she thought of the new deal.

I think animals must think we’re very dumb. They understand everything we say-ignore it usually- but we can’t learn their lingo. I’m not fluent in goat but I’m learning. I taught them ‘eeep’ means  get back in your pen and breakfast, lunch, and dinner will be soived in da main dining paddock.

They love cookies.  i usually carry a pocketful to hand feed them when we meet in pleasurable circumstance.

I also carry a stick to whap them with when they get sassy. They don’t like that stick and when I lift it and say ‘no’ they pay attention.

They love to play chase with Bootsy, my dog. And move furniture. They are at their absolute darlingest when they lie by my chair  chewing their cud. My life and my house have completely changed since they moved in.

The opening sentence in my million dollar tome on training goats? “You don’t train goats. They train you.”

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One Response

  1. Bettejo, Sounds like da kids have been baaaaaaad, build a pen for them! less tress for all….

    Like

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