Vote for Goat!

Well...

We didn't get into Ellen. Boo. It's a long story and part of a quest I've been on, and I'll tell you the story some time...but not today.

Today, I'm going to tell you about how I had the coolest pet EVER. His name was Copper, the Three-Legged Goat. He's my Friday Favorite.

In college, I got a little tired of the Provo college apartment scene for a while and I ended up in this great hundred year old rehabilitated farmhouse out in Lindon. There were a bunch of apple trees in the backyard and the owners leased their little corral behind it to some people who kept a couple of retired horses out to pasture. And that's where Copper lived.

Copper's story starts sadly but ends well. In his first life, he was a pack goat in the Grand Canyon. He was tall, with a lonnnnng face, brown fur, and crazy yellow eyes. His back came up to my waist, at least. His breed is sturdy and agile and can get down to the bottom of canyon floors better than even the most sure-footed horse.

On one of Copper's trips down the canyon, his leg somehow got caught in a rope and it was a long time before anyone noticed that he had lost circulation to his back leg. When his owner finally did, he felt awful and tried to keep Copper by the fire to help his leg warm up. But...

Well...the fire cooked it instead. So sad!

The owner felt really terrible then, and although Copper could no longer work as a pack goat, he didn't want to put him down completely. So Copper became a new resident of the pasture, free to roam, eat all the apples he wanted, and enjoy his retirement. He would try to hang out with the horses, but the old, wrinkled white one was mean and would snap and bite him. I watched this for a while, angry at the mean horses, and bummed that he didn't have any friends. Because Copper was a very sociable goat. He'd always hobble over to the fence to visitors, gladly stand still for petting, and other than occasionally getting loose and chewing on some of the yard shrubbery, he was obliging. So much so that if you said, "Poop, Copper!" he would do it, right on command. Rabbit style pellets that flew out of his bum. Merrily, even.

So we scavenged scrap lumber lying round in the pasture, built him a party shack, filled it with straw, and painted him a sign that said, "Copper's House."

Copper loved his new refuge. He'd hang out there, hustling out to great guests (and he had a growing following), and those stupid horses left him alone. Probably because they were ashamed that they couldn't perform when someone said, "Poop!" like Copper could.

And that's why Copper was a rockin' awesome goat.