The Tale of the Goat-Dog

Our family had a goat when I was younger. A fairly large white Saanen milk goat. She definitely had her quirks and eccenticitries. Her home was somewhat improvised, and we often had difficulty keeping her deer-like little teeth away from our fruit trees, but we had her for years and she was a good friend.

She was a five year old blue ribbon winning 4-H goat when we got her. She had papers and her registered name was Kandoe. As with many high-falutin animals, she had a “barn name,” and we called her Candy. At one poitn I painted “Lieutenant Kan-doe, Officer in charge of Beverage Supply” on the door of the shed where she lived for a while. Her ways were odd, and learning to milk was a strange experience. We made cheese sometimes too.

The fun part was when I would take her for walks around the neighborhood. Our lot was maybe a third of an acre and we lived in a poor neighborhood in the middle of a bunch of other houses. Since forage in our yard grew scarce, and I wanted to supplement her varied needs for browse, I would take her out with a collar and leash. We’d walk by vacant areas with lots of blackberry vines, and down by the beach where the grass was tall, and plenty of other interesting places.

So this is where the “goat-dog” comes in. Once when I was walking her, some kids from the neighborhood asked me waht kind of dog that was! My parents and I were astounded. We were somewhat in the country, after all. How could anyone see a goat, with yellow bar-pupiled eyes, side-pointing stiff goat-ears, pendulous udders, and little flappy tail, and a BEARD, and think this was a dog? Candy was a great goat but she made a really funny looking canine!

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