Country-Fried BULL
The Goat, Part Two

Story by Writer Ray Lubben

Click Here to view Part One

From Adventures with Wayne

THE GOAT
Part Two

I think about the goat every time it rains. When you get a good rain, the
ground sucks it up like a big sponge. The place to find the deepest mud is
the barn lot. (Some people say cow lot and it means the same thing.) Most
barn lots are surrounded with a hog-tight woven wire fence topped by a
couple strands of barbed wire. 

When you get a soaker of a rain the cows and horses walk around in the lot,
passing off all the hay and grain they had eaten lately. A few pigs wander
around too, looking for any corn or grain the careless cows and horses drop.

Here's what happens. The mud becomes something more than ordinary. You
wouldn't want to play in it or get it on you. It gets a particular odor and
feel all its own. It also gets deep and sticky.

Wayne and I wore rubber boots which came almost to the knee after a rain.
We had to be extremely careful because the sticky mud could suck the bottom
of the boot. If we weren't paying attention we would pull our foot right
out of a stuck boot. It was just this kind of situation that caused the
goat to get a different home. 

The barn lot had become a stinking mess. The sticky mud became so deep
Wayne and I didn't dare try to walk in it. Ogel wore taller boots. He
started across the lot to open a gate so the cows could go to pasture.

He stepped carefully so no mud would get in his boots. Each step made a
"schmuck" sound as the boot popped free of the muddy suction. Suddenly the
boot from his right foot pulled free, staying behind as he moved forward.

This would be disaster for a lot of people. There they would be, one
stockinged foot waving helplessly in the air, while their sense of
precarious balance quickly deserted them. Losing a boot in the mud only
happens when you are more than an arm's length away from anything to grab
hold of. I watched Ogel closely to see how he would handle this situation.

He was up to the challenge. He held the white stockinged foot up behind him
until he got his balance, then started hopping into position to retrieve
the lost boot. The sock looked as bright as his concentration to keep his
balance. He did a splendid job of that by waving his arms around in
fantastic fashion. I thought he might soon take off and fly. 

Wayne and I watched in admiration as he slowly got turned around, faced the
boot stuck in the mud. By now the horses and cows watched him also. He bent
over to get the boot but started losing his balance. A look of panic came
across his face. He hopped madly to maintain equilibrium. He was more fun
to watch than a clown on a high wire. When he regained his balance he stood
about ten feet away from the needed boot.

The goat had been resting on the dry cob pile, not paying any 
attention until then. She stretched as she stood up. 

Ogel only had thoughts of his missing boot. He started hopping toward the
boot top sticking out of the mud. The goat took a few steps in his
direction. She seemed all stiff legs and shiny horns.

I called Ogel's name, intending to warn him about the goat, but Wayne
jabbed me in the ribs with a sharp elbow. He had a wicked grin on his face.
I realized what was in his twelve year old mind. Ogel stopped hopping, l
ooked over to see what I wanted.

I told him, "Never mind, I'll tell you later."

He hopped closer to the half buried boot. The goat stepped closer also.
Ogel sent a grin our direction. He looked absolutely proud of his
successful retrieval of the stuck boot. He bent over to pick it up.

It is amazing how a goat can accelerate in a foot of mud. Her head was
down, her ears laid back, her feet flying. She must have been doing thirty
miles an hour when her horns made contact with Ogel's hip pockets.

His first flight carried him about ten feet directly toward the fence. He
looked pretty graceful in the air. I could see the whites of his wide open
eyes. The boot off his left foot stayed in the mud where the goat had made
contact. He kept his right knee bent so his foot stayed up but when he came
down against the fence he buried his left sock in the mud plumb to the knee. 

The fence went "Screeech" as it stretched and gave, but then it rebounded
him with a "Sproing" which headed him back toward the goat. Wayne laughed
so hard I had to use one hand to hold him up. I thought it pretty
entertaining myself.

The goat had done her part so turned back toward the dry cob pile. Ogel,
propelled by the fence, headed her way. His arms were windmilling in an
effort to get his balance and he still hopped on one leg. He must have
looked like a terrifying threat to the goat. She bleated in startled
anguish and leaped straight up into the air. Ogel lost his balance. He took
a header into the gooey mess right where the goat had been. Stiff arms out
in front kept his face out of the mud. But only until the goat came down on
top of him.

She gave out a typical goat "Brah" then kicked him with a hind foot. The
cows gave the goat a wide path of respect as she retired to the dry cob pile. 

Ogel sat up to gag and spit, cursing the goat. Wayne collapsed into a
laughing, helpless, heap, hung on to my pant leg, rolled on the ground. We
laughed 'til we cried. 

Ogel glared from us to the goat and back. His two angry eyes, surrounded by
mud-plastered lashes, were the only clean things in his face. I tried hard
to look serious whenever he looked our way. I couldn't tell who he was most
angry with, us or the goat.

I guess the goat. He loaded her up in the pickup, sold her at the sale barn
that afternoon. 

The End


Ray Lubben  vaquero@smgazette.com
Ray has three different books for sale. Monte Jack (western novel), Stray
Dogs (short stories and poetry), and Cowboy Rhymes & Other Times (poetry).
Monte Jack costs $7.00, the other two $5.00 each, plus add $3.00 postage
each. Allow a couple weeks delivery time (unless it is Elk hunting season.)

Contents Page Poems More Poems The Goat The Goat, Part Two Bullapulting The Cowboys And More Poems Jokes Last Night at Trapper's Cabin Dummies and Stupidities Sponsor's Page Manure Happens Subscribe or Submit Material