My early memories of arriving at the farm are quite hazy, to say the least. I do remember arriving in the back of a car, being nursed by the boss’s snotty-nosed daughter. I am not too fond of the boss’s daughter because her attitude towards me has changed over the last 18 months and I no longer wish to call her my friend. After my arrival she dragged me all over the farm to show me off to the other animals and to impress upon me my importance and how I would grow into a fine animal and this would be my future home and I should be able to go anywhere I please, do anything I want, as I was not like the cow who had to be milked, the chooks who had to lay eggs, the sheep who had to grow wool to be hideously shorn every year. I was going to grow into an animal that had no real work to do, to see to those things the goat would like to do. After my evening bottle of milk, she settled me down into my cardboard box with hay in the bottom. If I could not be with my family back on the other farm then this seemed a reasonable place as she seemed a lovely girl.
Over the next 12 months my height, my width and my length changed dramatically and so did my relationship with the boss’s daughter. This was evident by her attitude when I would playfully knock her over. Also by my reach to the succulent rosebush trees and scrumptious plants that I was not able to reach in previous weeks. I don't care for grass; I much prefer the exotic plants that are so conveniently placed for me around the home. I passed my days casually around the farm munching on the odd bush shrub or tree; I even sampled the boss’s pyjamas on the line but somehow they didn't taste all that good, although I did consume half of one leg before I discovered that pyjamas were really not for me. Very colourful, though. Nice stripes!
During this period of time the boss seem to revoke my earlier contract and made several attempts to stem my obvious birthright of having full access to every part of the farm with hideous gates and barricades that were really no challenge to a half-feral, half-angora goat that has had relatives that have possibly scaled such noble heights as the Himalayas. What did you think I was, a sheep? A mere sheep? No, I am a supreme animal that should not be denied access to any area that I want.
As the days passed certain animals such as the snotty-nosed little Pug dog that the boss’s wife owned had tried in vain to stop my God-given access only to be quickly shown the error of their ways. The bull even thought he was big enough to throw his weight around but I soon encouraged him to knock down a gate or two and saw him off in a truck to the saleyards. No, I was quite convinced that I was certainly the supreme animal on this farm and I wasn't about to take any orders or direction from anyone.
One day a mysterious truck arrived. I went over to investigate this foreign intruder. The driver got out; he walked around to the back of his truck and opened up the doors to produce two long cardboard boxes, very slim in nature, and carried them off to the front door of the house. He then retraced his steps, got back in the truck and drove off down the road. I thought nothing more of this visit until later that afternoon I spotted the boss in the shed gathering up his cordless gun and his toolbox. I then followed him at a reasonable distance back to the main door where he cut open the cardboard packages to reveal two flimsy-looking doors that looked just like fly mesh doors. This at the time seemed to be too much of a problem so I simply continued on down by the pool to munch on the passionfruit vine that obviously needed a small trim.
Later that evening as I headed back from the pool with a satisfactory amount of passionfruit vine devoured, I noticed that the boss had swung his new door. I was most surprised at this as I considered him to be not terribly handy based on his many unsuccessful attempts to prevent my access; however, I must say it did look to be a nice job considering. I thought I'd better take a closer look as I did not want him to think that this was going to be any type of barrier to keep me, Mr Goat, out. As I came closer to the door I noticed his wife standing in the hallway with their sassy little daughter. As I approached, the boss strangely opened the door and ran inside, closing the door behind him. I found this momentarily amusing and so I thought I'd take a closer look at this additional flimsy attempt to restrict my access: my God-given access. This door looked ridiculous, it had no sort of strength about it. I smelt it and rubbed it with my horns and I was convinced that this woven steel mesh door was no match for me.
I was a little bit peeved that he would think this flimsy, light trash fly door would stop a 70kg goat in his prime. He was having a little lend of himself, I thought, and at that moment I considered walking off and not even bothering to show him the error of his ways, but then that little voice in my head said that maybe there was something inside that he does not want me to see, maybe there was some more of those plants hidden that they put in pots for me. I like those nice little plants the boss’s wife prepares for me. I do find her reaction strange, though; once I've consumed them you would think that she really didn't put them there for me but I know better and why must she insist on hiding them from me? A silly game!
Okay, I think I should show this silly man just how ridiculous this flytrap of a door is. I walked up to the door again and gave it another indignant sniff. I then retreated backwards to the edge of the veranda, some three to four metres away from the door. The silly boss and his wife and daughter were showing great confidence by not retracting themselves further up the hallway. Okay, I thought, I can't be responsible for their stupidity and lack of recognition of my supreme right to go anywhere I bloody well please on this farm, and with that I reared up onto my back legs, I lowered my horns and with the spring of my back feet launched a full-blown attack knowing I would probably end up with them and this flimsy door on my back heading out the back door very shortly.
Unfortunately my first attack was not entirely successful; however, I was made instantly angry because of the great laughter and cheering echoing inside the hallway. I did I feel that I had made a definite dent in this hideous barrier and felt very confident that another attack would see it off. So on that note I reversed back to the veranda's edge and again reared up in the air on my back legs, lowered my horns with even more determination and launched my next attack.
I will not go into detail except to say that I now have a newfound respect of the doors that arrived here in cardboard boxes. I did end up with a slight headache. I can live with this, I told myself indignantly. I didn't really want to go in there anyway.
It was obvious that the boss had selected a very good product when he fitted this woven mesh steel security door. I say this as a warning to any other great goats out there. If you happen to see a Star Track Express truck deliver slim, door-like packages then please don’t attempt to penetrate these incredibly well-made doors by Seconline as you will only end up with a similar result as I have had. That is, a dented pride, and a rather large headache and possible loose set of horns.
