Fountain Valley News - Your Hometown Community Newspaper

Goats N' More

 


The Hyundai groaned and its tires squealed harmony as I rounded the corner. I was late.

Claws scrabbled on the lumber in back as all five dogs slid into a pile. I felt so stupid. If I hadn’t stopped at the home improvement store, I wouldn’t have gone nuts on the 70% off wood pile and there would have been time to take them home. I might have remembered to grab the dog crate for the goats.

Instead, I roared through the Old Colorado City neighborhood, desperate to make the Craig’s List (CL) meeting in a restaurant parking lot. Two dogs sat in the front seat, and two more were stuffed between the 2x4’s and blue pine flooring. My big, hairy, service dog, Brockle, teetered on a sheet of siding that curled over my head and rested against the windshield.

 The potential prize - a pair of yearling, Nigerian Dwarf does. I zipped past a rundown self-storage and saw a hand lettered sign - UNIT SALE! I’ll be darned, there in the deepening gloom, was a large dog crate. I screeched to a stop, slammed into reverse and shot back to the sale. There wasn’t a soul to be found.

“I’m in a hurry!” I shouted into the night. “I have $20 and need your dog crate!”

The heavy scent of weed and a middle-aged hippie drifted around the corner. He grabbed my twenty and helped me jam the crate into my car. Another dog joined the two in the front seat.

I pulled into the parking lot ten minutes late and didn’t see a truck loaded with goats. Of course, I didn’t have cell service so I settled in to wait. The dogs panted in my ear and the siding put Brockle just high enough to drool down my neck. Forty steamy minutes later, I was ready to pack it in. A couple exited the restaurant, saw my car and waved. I used my sleeve to wipe a clear spot in the dog fog on my windshield and cased them out; can’t be too careful with these CL deals. 

They were about my age, looked goat-y enough and all they seemed to be packing were bellies full of barbeque.

When I rolled down my window the woman asked, “Are you Janet? You were late so we decided to grab a bite. The goats are in the truck.”

Two pair of pale blue eyes peered out of the shadows and met my gaze straight on, I was hooked. The transaction took a whopping 30 seconds. Being the master bargainer, I gave full price and tickled the sellers so much they helped rearrange dogs, wood and the crate full of goats. We all waved as I pulled into traffic and hit the road.

I passed Big R and remembered I still needed feed and a place to put my goats. We were fenceless and the shed was filled with junk from the previous owners. I wondered if I had jumped the gun a little. I decided the girls could live temporarily in my studio, made a quick U-turn, and bought my goat stuff.

The cashier asked, “Would you like some help out?”

“Why yes, somebody with a sense of humor would be lovely,” I replied.

A few minutes later a young clerk hauled a bale of alfalfa, 50 pounds of goat chow and a tube of dewormer to my car. When I opened the hatchback a 2x6 and a chihuahua slithered to the pavement. The girls started to bleat. The clerk’s eyes popped and he turned to me in horror.

“Are you feeling creative?” I asked.

We did it. I drove home with all five dogs in front and my head kinked to the side to accommodate the wood piled over my head, but the hatch was closed. I kept thinking about the movie, The Omen. You know, the scene with the cameraman and the plate glass window.

Newly christened Calamity Jane and Poker Alice settled into their new digs like they’d lived there forever. It was official, I was a shepherd with a herd of two.

 

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