The Goat Who Stared At (Sales)Men

Kit lived at the little farm in the curve of the road. She had been born there many years ago. Goats were not particularly concerned with time so she could not recall how many years ago it was.  All of the animals at the farm came after Kit except for the two little brown and white Shetland Sheepdogs named Katie and Sugar- and Shetland Sheepdogs were not particularly concerned with goats. They were in charge of keeping the cats in order and acting as companions to the humans.

Kit was a gnarly gray pygmy goat. Gnarled little knees stood on top of gnarled little ankles and toes. Her gnarled little horns rose in a swoop on her knobby little head. She passed her days standing on the sidewalk so that she could watch customers most easily. They came and left often- coming to the farm or the dog kennel. Sometimes, they brought dogs with them- this required most careful watching.

Kit was not accustommed to moving out of the way for passersby. She would stand in her spot, imagining she was a sentry, or standing atop a mountain top surveying the region. If anyone dared ask  her to move, she would drop her head to her chest and show them her craggly horns. To another goat, this would have been an average display- but to a suburbanite with children and dog in tow, this was enough to cause them to veer out of her path.

For as long as everyone remembered, Kit stood on the sidewalk entrance each day displaying her horns to customers as they arrived. Human nature being so predictable, each convoy would give her a wide berth and step off of the sidewalk making a circle on the lawn before proceeding to their destination. To small children, her behavior resemebled a troll from a fairy tale demanding a toll.

Then, they came. The men arrived one day in a shiny black sedan. Three business suits stepped out of the sleek vehicle and onto the driveway. They walked toward the entrance confidently and purposefully. There, in their path, stood the most menacing goat they had ever seen. Well, in fact, two of them had never before seen a goat. She lowered her head in the threatening manner- slowly, nodding, showing them her crown of horns. Her face was expressionless as she carried out her ritual.

The polyester suits stood frozen and motionless. In the silence which separated them, a cell phone rang out.

"Doncha wish your girlfriend was hot like me, doncha" , the upbeat tune broadcast as he reached to silence the ringer.

The older of the men looked disapproviingly at the cell phone as it continued to vibrate.

"Turn that thing off, would you?" he barked at the younger of the group. "I have heard that cell phones can set these things off, ." he continued.

She continued to stare at them, scrutinizing their faces, their hands, their movements (and lack of).

And there they stood as minutes ticked by. The goat staring at men, the men staring at the goat. She had rehearsed her stare thousands of times before. She breathed in and made herself seem larger. The men retreated a half step. A glorious feeling of power moved through her body. Inwardly, she smiled.

Somewhere behind her, a door opened. She was a finely tuned instrument and did not blink. She had never lost this game and was not about to break her concentration now. A voice called out from behind her to the men,

"May I help you?" Wayne asked.

"Ex-excuse me sir, your goat will not let us pass," the older man called back.

Wayne quickly surveyed the stand-off from a distance. He could see the pamphlets in their hands, categorized briefcases, fancy suits, and sensed the phony air of importance. He was busy that day and could not be bothered with the nonsense of salesmen.

"Sir, if we could have a moment of your time," the younger man stepped forward.

Kit narrowed her eyes. Slower yet, she lowered her head one final time. Again, the salemen retreated a step.

"I'm sorry, the goat says No," Wayne answered.

The goat continued to stare at the men. A housewife would have walked around her, but these men did not grasp that option. Slowly they began to walk backwards to the black sedan from whence they came.

"Doncha wish your girlfriend was hot like me..." the phone rang again. As if a spell had been broken, the men turned and stepped quickly into the car. As she watched the car exit the driveway, Kit briskly walked to the lawn and began nibbling grass.

She looked over her shoulder to where Wayne stood watching her and cast him an absentminded glance.

"Bleeeehhh," she said.

"Good goat," he replied.