Goat Delivery

I sold my handsome French Alpine buck and had to deliver him Saturday. The farm that purchased him is about a two-hour drive from here. Naturally, it was rainy, and cold, and muddy to make it as interesting as it could possibly be. We were taking him in the pick-up truck that has a tight-fitting shell. (Remember tight-fitting for later reference.) Jack thought it was going to be nigh impossible to coax him into the back of the truck so he designed a pulley system that worked very well and we were off. For those of you that haven't had personal experience with billy goats I'll explain here that they are in the same family as deer and elk and so they breed in the Fall of the year (right now). And to make themselves attractive to the females they develop (we won't go into detail about how here) an aroma that is less than pleasing to mankind's sense of smell. My daughter and two grandaughters accompanied me on this trip. (Very kind.) We had to stop for gas (and snacks !) on the way and while they ran in to find their goodies I pumped the gas. While I was pumping, a very strong odor wafted out of the back of the truck and surrounded me and because you can't see into the not-tight-fitting-enough shell I knew that noone would have an idea what it was. I stood there in my mud-covered muck boots, smiling and trying to look pleasant, while thinking about what I was going to have to do with my clothes when I got home and wondering if there were any other stops we were going to have to make before we got there.
We pulled up to the farm and the mother and young daughter who was purchasing the goat came out, and after introducing ourselves, and apologizing for the mud all over the goat (good thing she had seen pictures already), and gee, if we had done this on Wed. when I wanted to he wouldn't of had a speck of mud on him, we began trying to come up with a stategy for getting him out of the truck. The dad of this family now comes pulling in and we think (and say out loud) AHA! what great timing! Help has arrived! He walks up to the truck and looks in at Zeb (who I think was also smiling now) and says, "I'm not going to smell like a billy goat" and goes in the house. And, yes, you really could have heard a pin drop (if you can hear them when they fall in the mud) while we smiled and worked on regaining our senses. (All except the sense of smell, of course.) Zeb, not wishing to appear offended, hopped right out of the truck and with head held high, pulled the new owner (who was at the other end of the rope) to the pen that was to become his new home and entered without so much as a sidelong glance around him. A little polite conversation later, we hopped in the truck, turned it around, and headed for home.