Someone's Got Your Goat

I read in Goats magazine that the expression "someone's got your goat" comes from an Old English tradition of keeping a goat in the barn with dairy cows to keep the cows calm and producing lots of milk. A farmer's enemy would steal the goat, causing the cows to become so agitated that their udders would dry up and leave the farmer without milk.

Alternatively, the expression comes from 19th century horse racing lore. Many racehorses had their own pet goat as a stablemate; the companionship kept the horse happy and calm. Gamblers would try to fix an outcome by sneaking into barns on the night before a big race and abscond with the goat of the projected winner. The distraught horse would run poorly the next day and lose the race.

Although I've owned goats for less than a week, I completely understand the expression. If someone got my goats, I would be devastated. I knew that I'd like having goats, but it turns out that I absolutely love having goats! I'm obsessed. I can't believe I waited this long. I should have gotten goats many years ago. "Would you have dated me if I had goats?" I asked the Wrangler. He said yes, but I wonder. Back in the day, I think we both would have thought that having pet goats was weird.

But how obtuse we were back then. Little did we know that having goats is a joy. I've never been a morning person, but I now look forward to waking at the crack of dawn to let them out. Refilling water buckets and loading up the hay feeders twice a day is peaceful and rewarding. It's hard to explain, but the tasks feel like yoga, a soothing physical ritual. My mind thinks of nothing but the routine. Even mucking out their pen and sweeping up the "nanny berries" (and wow--are there ever a lot of nanny berries!) feel satisfying. Twice a day I get to turn the messy pen into a fresh and tidy little home for my dear four-legged friends. They always are curious and watch me with interest as I complete my chores. I stoop down every now and then to softly scratch their sweet faces.

Each day Oscar and Elmo get more comfortable with me. The loud bleating meltdowns stopped a few days ago, and peace and quiet reigns in the the courtyard now. Elmo loves being petted, scratched, and groomed. Oscar also lets me pet him now, although he still is shy.

Every night at 6:30 they march into their doghouse on their own and tuck themselves in for the night. Adorable!

I've got a five-foot wall, a five-foot fence, a metal 6x8 dog kennel, and video baby monitor in place. Hopefully no one will get my goats....neither literally nor figuratively.