|Birth: ||Dec., 1985|
Prince William County
My dad attended a livestock auction and a young, white, male goat got loose and ran down the street. My dad and his friends chased after it and caught it. Their reward - the goat. However, they lived in Fairfax County and had no place to keep a goat. My dad thought of us since we had just recently moved to a small farm and we had a small barn, as well.
So, we brought you home in the back of our pickup truck that had a cap on it.
We knew nothing about keeping a goat, but you were young and seemed easy enough. I used to brush you and walk you on a leash. One day, I was walking you around the yard and as we passed my car, you suddenly jumped onto the hood of it, looking around proudly, like you were surveying your kingdom!
You began growing little nubs for horns. Our place wasn't fenced, so we chained you to a different tree everyday and you soon cleaned up all the thick vegetation on the hillside. Then, you stripped the hillside of all the grass. Then, you began eating the bark off all the trees and pulling the bark off in long strips as far up the trunk as you could. You were also fed goat chow daily, but you just ate non-stop. Soon, the hillside began eroding.
As you grew bigger, you became stronger. At first, I could keep you from head-butting me by holding you back with one hand on one horn (which were also growing longer and sharper). Then, it took both my hands on both your horns to hold you back. Then, I had to brace myself with one foot on the stall wall and use both hands to hold you back. Eventually, I wasn't strong enough to work around you safely and your horns were super long and super sharp.
My husband had to be the one to move you daily from tree to tree and you would head butt him mercilessly. He would get so angry with you as he would try to untangle the chain you had wrapped tightly around a tree.
Then, whenever I would come home from work, I would call out to you and you would "BAAAA" back at me and then spray. Oh, the stench!
The time had come to give you to someone who knew how to properly raise goats and who had some female goats to make you happy. I put an ad on the bulletin board in our local grocery store "FREE to good home" and soon received a call.
Well, the person said he had a goat farm and was looking for a stud. It sounded perfect for you. Your new owners arrived in a small two-door car. When they opened the door to grab some junk from the backseat, Pabst Blue Ribbon cans rolled out onto the ground! They went to put the junk into their trunk and when the trunk was opened, chickens flew out!! The guys ran around the yard and caught the chickens and put them back into the their trunk. My hubby and I just watched in stunned amazement at the unfolding circus before us.
You climbed into the backseat, like it was something you did everyday, they closed the door and got in. This occurred on a 90 degree day in August. The last I saw you, you were chewing the passenger's baseball cap as they drove down the road.
I always imagined you running around free of the chain on a goat farm surrounded by your own harem.
You taught me how difficult it is to care for a livestock animal as a pet. And, I have never done that again. Cleaning and sanitizing your stall every day, ensuring you had enough hay in your stall in the winter to keep you warm and well fed, breaking the ice off the water bowl in sub-zero temperatures, making sure you were safe out in the field. Caring for livestock is a very difficult and demanding job!
Every Christmas when I decorate my tree, I hang up one porcelain ornament of a little white goat wearing a red collar in your honor. I truly hope you had a good life, Scamp.
Created by: fourdots4
Record added: May 20, 2010
Find A Grave Memorial# 52613791