Friday, July 9, 2010

Capra Hircus

I just love goats. They have no inhibitions. Incessantly begging for food and attention.

One time I went to the rodeo with a friend who had just moved to Texas, Shannon. We were both pregnant with our second children and had baby boys who were not yet one year old. What the hell we were doing inside of a petting zoo at the rodeo with infants, I have no idea. I think we were trying to be super-moms, so sure that our boys were being exposed to every opportunity. Whatever.

Have any of you ever been to the petting zoo at the rodeo? The little people who run the situation even tell the adults walking in to hold on to the ice cream cone of feed so that the kids don't get knocked over. It's nuts. And it's all about the goats.

Anyway, my newbie Texan friend gamely grabbed her ice cream cone of little pellets and stepped in with me. The goats immediately started coming up to us in droves trying to get at the food, which we held over our heads. Because we had our babies on our hips, we didn't have another hand to deflect the madness. I had to keep ducking to keep the goats from licking and gnawing at Cash's face. (I guess they like the smell of regurgitated formula?) After about 40 seconds we both threw down the ice cream cones of food and decided to just sort of walk around and coo with the babies about the animals. You know how moms do that- they look at calves and say "moo" while pointing so that the baby on their hip learns to read early and can get into Harvard.

Suddenly I hear Shannon scream "Oh My God!" And then I heard a strange wet thwack. She yelled out, "It's eating my skirt!" Apparently this goat had eaten part of her Old Navy stretchy- but it's not maternity- skirt. Somehow she got it out of its mouth and the skirt thwacked against her leg. We got the heck out of there- and couldn't stop laughing.... all of the way to the ice cream kiosk.

But this little episode not only provided great introduction to the agricultural life that is Houston (NOT), but also was a great reminder to me of this wonderful quality about goats. A goat is sort of like a two year old- no inhibitions, does as it pleases, and every action screams "mine! mine!"

I think I could use a little bit more of this in my life and attitude. Selfish, I am, but too often it's tucked away in the effort to appear "nice." I certainly have the desire to be ridiculous, loud, pushy, and somewhat obnoxious- thankfully after I left toddlerhood most of those desires are able to be sublimated.

But where did they go? Did they become some of the resentment that I sometimes feel towards others who do push their own agendas? Or even in smaller ways- If I want to take a nap on Sunday afternoon should I not just because it seems lazy? Why be a martyr? The goats certainly aren't.

Maybe I want to be a goat in my next life. Gotta love them.

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