Why I Prefer Sheep

We all have traumatic experiences that haunt us, experiences that time does not heal, experiences that go with you wherever we go, refusing to go away. Experiences that makes us wake up in the middle of the night. I am no different, and it includes a goat. 

And let me be clear before you start objecting to how a goat can be trauma creating. We are not talking the normal, cute, chewing, skipping mountain goat type. No, this one was special. The devilish, psychopath, cheese-making type. 

I don't remember how old I was, but I went with my dad to a center for child torture, a 'circus' I think they called it, decorated with bright colors to lure children in. After the show, when you believed the danger had passed and you relaxed your defense, you could mingle with the stars. What no one knew, was that in one corner the Hannibal Lector of goats himself was standing smoking grass, or eating it, can't remember, but he was waiting for the perfect victim. Me. 

Long story short. I reached out to introduce myself; friendly, coming in peace, opening up to a fellow creature touching his horn. He returned the favor head-butting me. I haven't talked to a goat since.  

So it was with a certain kind of caution I took Miss Cupcake to the Children's Zoo at San Francisco Zoo, which includes goats. Her only comments when feeding them was 'it tickles'. I told her, 'great', and 'don't touch the horns'. 

It will get dirty!