Under Arrest

Anyone with animals can identify with the propensity of pet-owners to speak to their cats and dogs in that rather annoying, sing-song baby talk voice, as in "Here, kittty-witty, Mommy has your foody-woody ready..."  Generally I disdain this tendency for my felines, as they are probably more intelligent than most humans, but the goats are a different story. Clearly their brain development has not kept pace with their physical growth (as evidenced by their current nicknames, Dumbhead and Stupid-O), so we naturally speak to them in a language more likely to be understood. Em and Ellie have "drinkies" and "treat-ies" and sleep in their "sheddy." Their most favorite time of day is "walkie," when I take them down in the lower field to eat weeds and run free for an hour or so.

Last Saturday we enjoyed a lazy stroll by the woods, listening to the sounds of spring - birds chirping, a rustling breeze, police sirens...Recently local law enforcement officials have been setting up speed traps about a half-mile up the road, and all day long we hear the sirens as unsuspecting speeders are pulled over just around the corner. By now accustomed to the intermittent wailing sirens, the goats don't even look up any more.

After a while I began thinking about a snack myself, so I patted them each on the rump and started toward the house. As usual, the goats took off in a frantic dash up the hill, knowing that I would follow and give them each an animal cracker and a bucket of steaming hot water on the deck, where they could bask in the sunshine until the next activity. The goats reached the driveway about the same time I crested the hill, and as they skidded to a stop, panic overwhelmed me as I saw what had startled them - not one, but three police cars in our driveway, with several armed officers surrounding another vehicle, and I could just imagine what the goats were thinking at this unexpected sight...which was clearly more than a routine traffic stop -

Look at all those new peoples, Emerson! Should we smell them and see if they have any treats? - Good idea, brother! I want to jump on those shiny cars with the pretty flashing lights - Do you think a carnival has come to us?

Desperate at the thought of my goats interrupting a gun battle, damaging police property or impeding an arrest, I ran up the hill as fast as I could while shrieking, "Decky, decky! Go to the decky!" And - for this I will always love them - they did. With one wistful glance at the cluster of interesting people and sparkling lights, they turned and charged up the concrete steps to the deck and waited for me there.

That day I gave them each two animal crackers. Then I locked myself in the basement until all the excitement was over. And by the way, a reminder to friends and family, the speed limit here is 45 mph. Really.