Hey Friends,
I promised you a hilarious tale about an event that goat out of hand. Now that I've had a solid week to process my experience, and appropriately embellish the details, this unbelievable, yet true story, is now fit for human consumption.
I feel like almost everyday in Cayman, I hear or see something absolutely outrageously bizarre, think, "You can't make this shit up," and immediately search the the room for hidden cameras. Well friends, I've goat one for you and you literally cannot make this shit up.
I was driving back to our home in West Bay mid-day, traveling down Mt. Pleasant Road, the "highway" of our district. In the distance, I could see something standing in the middle of the road, so I slowed to investigate. There, unmoving, stood a goat. The goat stubbornly refused to move after I honked, so I pulled over. There are many goat farmers here in Cayman, but a goat is not an animal that you would typically see on the side, or in the middle of the road in Cayman. If it was a blended family of chickens and iguanas, I wouldn't have even bat an eyelash.
I opened up my door and beckoned to the goat, "Hey! What are you doing out here? Are you lost?"
Like a friendly little puppy, the goat bounded over and nuzzled his little horns in my hand. Instantly, I felt responsible for this goat's well-being. I unloaded my crutch from the backseat and got out of the vehicle. My new friend, who I aptly named, "Billy," refused to leave my side.
 |
| Meet Billy. He enjoys frolicking in the middle of traffic and harassing women on crutches |
I noticed a clearing across the highway where I reasoned a small farm could exist, so I attempted to lure Billy across the highway. We were making some progress, when suddenly Billy began dancing on his hind legs back and forth across the highway (I swear on Allicia's Barbie collection). As Billy danced, I could hear vehicles approaching in the distance. And given that local buses barrel down this road at high speeds, I couldn't bear the thought of Billy becoming road kill (I mean, he's probably Christmas curry, but NOT road kill!).
So I did what any animal lover would do and I stood in the middle of the road, waving my crutch in the air while Billy danced like no one was watching back and forth across the highway. Thankfully, vehicles began stopping. One car attempted to help, offering to put Billy in their hatch, but Billy was busy living his best life on the highway to hell (Literally...the district of "Hell" was about 3 miles away). Oddly, other vehicles rolled down their window and yelled at me...AT ME!
"Hey! Get your goat off the road!"
Dude. I'm on crutches, in my formal work clothes - do I look like a goat wrangler?
I was making little progress when suddenly a familiar voice beckoned from a vehicle, "Ms Kirstie, what are you doing?"
It was one my student's moms - a lovely woman, and a fellow West Bay-er. She immediately got out of her car to help me herd Billy.
"I think I know the farmer who owns this goat," she said, "I will make a few phone calls."
Together, we managed to lure the goat into the ditch, where he was safe from oncoming traffic. As she attempted to contact the suspected owner, I fed Billy leaves, but noticed that he was becoming more aggressive, pushing his horns into my legs.
"My students, now fully entertained by the situation, yelled from the vehicle, "Is that Ms Kirstie? Ms. Kirstie! Why do you have a goat?"
Suddenly, Billy ran out into the road again, and sat himself down in the middle of the highway. I looked on in horror to see that Billy was um....aroused...and sporting a...ahem...goat boner. Oblivious to the high speeding oncoming traffic, Billy tended to his male goat parts, while I, yet again, waved my crutch, desperately trying to save this damn horny goat.
This time, drivers became quite angry, as Billy was now completely blocking both lanes of traffic. Cars began honking their horns, aggravating my friend, Billy, who was trying to have a private moment.
Billy stood up, purposely walked toward the line of vehicles, and began bucking the cars with his horns!
Oh what a silly Billy.
"Hey! Get your goat!" yelled the angry drivers.
Luckily the mom came to my rescue, shaming the drivers for being so rude, ("This is NOT Caymankind!") and helping me lure Billy back to the side of the road.
"What are we going to do?" I asked her.
"It's okay, I have a friend coming with rope," she responded.
Ahhh...rope. Good thinking.
Soon an iguana hunter approached us on his bike, and offered his goat expertise.
"You got to make the goat noises," he suggested.
At this point, I had been on the road, on my crutches, with my dear friend Billy for over an hour. I was not above making goat noises.
So the three of us nayed and brayed in various frequencies and intensities, and sure enough, Billy left his boner alone, and followed us into the clearing.
When we finally got Billy into the clearing, and we could see that there was, indeed, a goat pen in the distance, housing at least a dozen goats, our iguana hunter friend took Billy by the horns and corralled him into the pen. I have no idea if that is where Billy actually resides, but he was now locked away, safe from traffic, with a bevy of beautiful lady goats who he could impress with his um...Billy willy (CRINGE).
When I got home that day, sweaty and exasperated by the experience, I didn't even know where to begin the story.
"You see, there was a goat with a boner and I didn't want him to get hit by a car..."
Looking at me incredulously, Ev replied, "Okay, I gotta hop on a call with a client, but maybe we could talk about this later?"
"Yup. No problem."
In the end, I feel like I goat owned. I obviously got goated into doing something that I was not qualified to do You herd it here first, it was a baaaaad situation.
Ok. I'm done.
