One day during my youth, I came home to discover we had a new pet. A french mini-lop named Murphy. Hmmmm. Our pet range had never expanded beyond cats and dogs, but Murphy was adorable, so I was game. Why did we get a bunny? Who knows. Typically it is the children of the family advocating for such requisitions. Not this time. This decision was all Mom. My SD (StepDad) had to build a cage off our back patio. We were certainly not equipped for a bunny, but they are truly low maintenance so it wasn't difficult.
And then on another day, I came home to find we had acquired two additional new pets. Two pygmy goats. Ok...zookeeper...let's slow down here. Why did we have goats? Who the ______ knows.
Again, children are typically the family members requesting everything from a unicorn to a Sasquatch but these wishes are not always granted. In this case, again, the genesis of this purchase was at the hands of my Mom. My SD had to build a GOAT PEN in our back yard because 1. we didn't live on a farm 2. we were not equipped to accomodate goats, pygmy or otherwise. My Mom named them Knick Knack and Paddy Whack. And they too were quite cute so I was game. Initially. You know which animals are not low maintenance? GOATS.
While these diminutive domestic goats are certainly adorable, they are not shy. OR quiet. One day, I heard a wretched sound coming from the back yard. Racing to the goat pen, I couldn't decipher the sound but certainly saw the goats involved in some kind of fisticuffs.
I ran into the house to alert my parents. I shouted "Knick Knack is killing Paddy Whack!" in all my earnest exuberance. My parents ran outside with me.
Was Knick Knack killing Paddy Whack? Yes. If by killing you mean mounting and going to town as if his life depended upon having enthusiastic goat sex.
My parents laughed at me for about an hour. How was I supposed to know what goat sex looked like? I was mortified and mad at them both. I huffed right off and since my bedroom door would not slam because of the carpet. I shut it. HARD. And then kicked it for good measure.
*&^(!)(&! HUMPING GOATS!
But I got them back. Unintentionally, but sometimes intentions are not the point. Or the source of humor.
Because Knick Knack loved goat sex, before long Paddy Whack was pregnant. Oh guess what? Pygmy goats like to conjugate MUCH more than other goats. So then goat babies came. And more goat babies. They were so little (and adorable) but my parents had to help some of them eat. All kinds of goat feeding equipment begin to surface to keep the little ones healthy.
One night, my parents were having a dinner party. I was getting in the shower when people had already arrived. Upon opening the shower curtain I was disgusted to see goat paraphenalia in the shower. This clearly belong OUTSIDE in the shed. I redress and stomp right out to the collective of family and friends before asking in an oh-so-sassy fashion:
WHY IS THE GOAT FEEDER HANGING IN THE SHOWER!?!?!?!?!?!?
It was followed by complete silence. And a somewhat puzzled look on my Mom's face.
And then my SD bursting out laughing.
And then my Mom's face turning a hybrid shade of crimson and magenta.
And then her jumping up..no poker face on this one...and escorting me down the hall by my arm.
And then a room FULL of laughter. A goat feeder in the shower? Ummm. No.
My mom's feminine cleansing system? Absolutely.
Nothing creates a more appetizing pre-dinner conversation than the announcement to your house full of guests about the lady-parts washer of your Host. And pretty soon, the busy-breeding goats were no longer the funniest part of our memories of these pets.
PS: But the proclivity towards procreation gave my parents sound reason to give the goats to a local farmer. Bye bye humpy humps-a-lot.
Maybe it should be e - i- e- i-ewwww!