By DAVID MACGREGOR
Last year I fell in love with a goat. Now I am not so sure.
It’s goat’s life…TK the confused Transkei goat chills with the hounds. Pic: David Macgregor
Standing in my once beautiful garden – staring at foliage stripped barer than the aftermath of the Hiroshima “A bomb” – I am in two minds whether to keep the beast, or slap it on the next barbie. Problem is TK has become more than just a set of chops or a rack of ribs – he is now part of the family.
Riding back to Port Alfred from the Dispatch @Venture roadtrip in the Transkei last year with my son and the furry ball of fluff on a motorbike seemed like fun at the time – and then he grew up and became bigger and badder than my dogs. Always eating and pooping bullets all over the place, sometimes I think I would better off if I had not contracted Pondo Fever and fallen in love with a goat.
Newspapers, washing, car seats – you name it – nothing is safe when TK gets the munchies. He is like a goat tsunami. That is when I think about taking him off behind the packshed and sending him to goat chop lalaland.
Sharpening the knives in my mind, licking my chops and thinking about the amount of nyama on the beefy yellow-eyed beast’s body, it usually takes a glance from the other two, two legged kids I have to convince me otherwise. Problem is my offspring have given him a name and it would be like killing their brother.
A confused critter, I am still trying to work out whether the goat realizes he is in fact a goat. After months of running with the hounds, he has developed a tendency to make his back hair stand up when he is angry – just like his pooch pals.
He is no longer a goat and is certainly not a dog either – friends explain his personality as that of a doat. He loves cruising around in the car and walking on the beach on a lead with the dogs. But, taking him for a splash is hard work. Trying to dodge inquisitive dogs and trigger happy people asking to pose for pictures with TK is a nightmare.
My kids have now twigged on the idea of using their furry friend to generate some pocket money. Tired of the endless photocalls, five year-old Kye thinks he can charge people R5 a time.
Goat tsunami…TK chomps up a storm. Pic: David Macgregor
One trip to East Beach with the missus – dressed in black – drew screams from across the Kowie River as she walked down the pier with TK. “Look a goat,” some drunkard shouted. “I think she is going to sacrifice it on the pier,” the madman continued.
Sheepishly she bundled him into the car and went walkies at a quieter spot.
I don’t know how long goats normally live for, but I think I am stuck with the beast – at least until the kids leave home. By that time I should be grey and living in the “Goatbi” desert and TK will probably be too tough to slap on the barbie. Maybe a Christmas braai and a white lie to the kids about how he ran off to join the circus is a better idea?
* David Macgregor a.k.a. Gwava is the wayward, surf-loving Port Alfred correspondent for the Daily Dispatch newspaper. Look out for his blog, Davey Jones, on the Dispatch’s website soon. Click here to read about the start of the stormy relationship with TK, the goat.
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September 16th, 2009 at 9:33 am
Ha ha ha, I love this piece. Thanks for posting it. I recently became very fond of a goat called Ned, who lives on a drug and alcohol treatment centre, Harmony Clinic, in Hout Bay.
The centre is situated on a smallholding, where there’s ample space to roam around. Its one close friend is a giant rooster, that follows it around most of the day.
When Ned’s partner, Britney, (fellow goat) died suddenly, the rooster would come and check up on Ned, while he was lying on the luxurious sofa in the CEO’s office, mourning.
In fact, it often made itself at home on this couch. This goat is the most wonderful, loveable creature, much like a large dog. It would eat anyhing in site and frequently climb onto the roof of the building, as if it were some Karoo koppie. It would stare into the distance and bleat, as if calling up all the goats scattered around the globe.
It has a large area to wander around, a pond, greenery and trees, but always seems to follow people around wherever they went. On a recent visit, it tried to climb into my car. Can you imagine driving through the city centre of Cape Town with a goat in the passenger seat.
The goat (there are other animals as well), is a vital part of the treatment in the recovery process of the patients and connects them with the healing (elixir-type) qualities of nature.
How I do miss that goat. They are indeed a connection and a panacea to a long past world where the warm heart of the cosmos and the universe still beats kindly and softly.
September 17th, 2009 at 2:42 pm
My only run-in with a goat was at varsity, where a fellow student kept a goat as a pet in the yard of a Grahamstown digs (Lawrence Street for ex-Rhodians). It was an odious flea-bitten creature that would headbutt you for no good reason and push the dogs arounds. It once even tried to eat my skirt off me!
September 21st, 2009 at 7:40 pm
There’s nothing like a goat to make you groan or roll your eyes in amazement. Plus they’re way yummy on the grill too!
I’m wondering though…if (Herman’s) Ned has overcome his chemical dependency problem. hehe
September 22nd, 2009 at 11:41 am
Naimhe…yes, dear old Ned is off the dagga leaves and magic mushrooms for now. He’s only eating spinach and non-mind altering greenery. Poor thing, he was sad for a while, but now he’s taken a liking to fermented fruit. I wonder why?
October 5th, 2009 at 1:47 pm
Excellent story Dave… You captured his antics very well.
I have met this doat and had the experience of taking him for a walk- he is no small creature and often it is the case that he takes his 2 legged owner/s for a walk rather than the other way around! He definitely turns some heads…Kye could be onto something good with the R5 photocall charges!!
The story made me laugh- thanks xx