The Goat Who Thought He Was a Dog, Version 2

Author's Note: See previous Author's Note.

The Goat Who Thought He Was a Dog, Version 2
Emmylou and Willie had a pet goat named Charlie, who thought he was a dog. He was allowed in the house, where he was most helpful at dinner. Both Emmylou and Willie were picky eaters and liked to feed the food they did not want to an animal under the dinner table. Dogs had also proved to be too picky, but Charlie, proving true the stereotype that a goat will eat anything, was very accommodating with everything that was passed to him.

Emmylou and Willie also had an aunt named Hilda, who kind of resembled Charlie the Goat, although not in personality. Where Charlie the goat was loving, affectionate, and generally accepting of anything the children might do, their Aunt Hilda was a condescending, judgmental, and often very cruel aunt to the young children.

For example, Aunt Hilda had a habit of telling the children to try not to look so ugly, right before a photograph was snapped. Emmylou and Willie were in a lot of photographs where, if the picture had been taken two seconds earlier, they would have looked as happy and content as two children who own a goat usually look. Instead, those photographs depicted children who were about to commence wailing.

Hilda did not live nearby, so she did not visit very often, but when she did, the kids tried hard to be on their best behavior, so as not to provoke her. She complained about everything, but the children didn’t mind, so long as she wasn’t complaining about them. Hilda was on a rant about how awful the hors d’oeuvres were when she saw Charlie the Goat. Charlie, who was supposed to be locked in Emmylou’s room, had smelled the deviled eggs and was now headed straight for them.

“What is that thing?” Hilda shrieked.

“It’s our pet, Charlie,” Emmylou said.

“Well, why is he in the house?” Hilda shrieked (it should be noted that most things that Hilda said sounded like a shriek).

“Well, he thinks he is a dog, so we let him come in like a dog,” said little Willie.

“That is absolutely disgusting. Goats aren’t clean,” Hilda shrieked.

“No, he’s very…”

But Emmylou did not get to finish telling her aunt that Charlie the Goat was a clean animal, for Hilda had started shrieking that she would not stay in the house another minute if that goat was in the house. She would not come back if those children even had a goat, because they were probably crawling with goat germs as well.

Emmylou and Willie were overjoyed. Hilda would not be able to come back to the house as long as Charlie was there. Charlie was their protector, their talisman. What a great day!

But the children’s father was motioning for Willie to come near. “Willie, we’re going to have to put that goat down.”

“But why?” Willie whispered. “He’s not doing anything wrong, and I don’t care if Aunt Hilda never comes back.”

“Aunt Hilda is family,” his father said. “While I agree that it’s an unfair trade, we have to respect our family’s wishes. Go get my shotgun and kill your goat.”

Emmylou wept and threw her arms around Charlie the Goat’s neck. “Please don’t kill my goat,” she cried over and over again, even as her father dragged the goat outside into a field. “Do it, son,” he whispered to Willie. Willie took aim, and through the tears in his eyes, he shot that goat who thought he was a dog.

All through dinner, Emmylou and Willie sobbed, but they did learn a valuable lesson that day. Families are crap. It’s better to have a pet goat and never have to answer to your family. So, when Emmylou and Willie grew up, neither married nor had children, and they both lived together with a goat. Since their parents had died long before, and because Hilda did not care for them, there was no one to bury Emmylou and Willie when they died. And to this day, no one knows where they are buried.