I wrastled with a goat

Yesterday started out fine, but soon took a turn toward the bizarre. I walked Tasha, as usual, out in the vineyard. When we got home, I saw what looked like a goat in the street a few houses down from us. Two of the households down there keep goats so, obviously, one got out. I took Tasha inside and didn't give it another thought.

This is not the same goat.

After drying Tasha's paws and giving her the morning biscuit, I went out to move our car out onto the street so that Ken wouldn't be blocked in by the groomer, who was to arrive at 09h00. After I moved the car, the goat from down the street casually walked toward our house, into our driveway and went out to the back yard. I went out to shoo it back out of the yard and it cooperated. I closed the gate and started to walk down to where the goat came from, thinking it would follow me to its home and stay there.

It followed me, alright. About halfway down the street it turned and attacked me with its horns. And it wouldn't stop. I was wrestling with the beast in the middle of the street, trying to grab it by the horns, but it kept wriggling away and butting me, again using its horns to trip me up. Twice I hit the asphalt very hard. I was able to keep my head up while the goat kept upending me. By this time I was shouting Help! and Au Secours!, hoping someone in the neighborhood would hear. But there was no one at home to hear, and back at our place, Ken was in the shower.

I managed to move the goat back to my driveway gate and hold it off long enough to get inside and close it. I went into the house and told Ken what happened. I noticed I had a bloody shin and calf. Just then, the groomer showed up and parked on the street outside the gate. The goat had walked back out to the vineyard and was watching us. I told the groomer what was going on and we hurried to get her tools into the driveway and close the gate as the goat trotted toward us. It jumped up on the gate, but couldn't get over. Then it turned and jumped up on the groomer's car door. Finally, it turned and walked back toward its home.

We got the groomer set up in the utility room and, as she got started with Tasha, Ken called our town hall to report the rogue goat. They didn't have a clue about what to do. The mayor, who lives in our neighborhood, couldn't be located. We told the groomer all this and she took out her cell phone and called the police. As she told the police, in a good-natured way, what had happened, I realized the story sounded kind of comedic. I'm glad we had her as a witness.

The police took a long time to show up. Goat herding is understandably not a high priority for them. When the two officers arrived, we told them the story. I could see that they were fighting back smiles. It was then that I realized that the goat was gone. We thanked the police and they left -- there was really nothing they could do -- but where did the goat go?

Later in the morning, the woman who keeps the goat (she has two) rang our bell. She knew what had happened and apologized. Apparently, her father (a frequent visitor to our neighborhood, but we never knew who he was until yesterday) had forgotten to latch the gate on the goat enclosure earlier in the morning. He had realized his mistake and gone back to the house, got the goat in, latched the gate, and went home, all in the time between the attack on the groomer's car and the time the police arrived. We actually saw him driving away, but didn't make the connection.

Life has resumed its normal slow and calm pace. Tasha's all groomed. My leg would is superficial, but I'm still a little sore in spots. Looking back, our story sounds slightly ridiculous, but it truly happened and I was genuinely frightened. I'm not a youngster any more and that animal was stronger than me.

I can only imagine the guffaws over at the police station.