Billy the goat
One day I went to the shop to buy milk and came home with a goat called Billy! I had no idea what I was going to do with Billy, but I assumed it would all fall into place. I was wrong.
My kind and unassuming husband was very surprised when I opened the gate to our home for waifs and strays with a goat in tow. The bearded animal snorted when he saw the garden. Heaven, he must have thought, a Billy Goats Heaven!
I was a very kind but assuming wife, my husband said, to think that we could easily accommodate this animal that had one eye on the washing line and another on our prized allotment. But Billy was here to stay, at least for the time being.
He didn’t make friends easily, which was probably due to his horns. These had the potential to toss an unsuspecting person into the air. And they certainly scared many of our friends away.
And he escaped, once or twice, could have been more but I hate to think about it. Oh, the trouble it caused. We thought that Gilbert the Great was a handful, but Billy the Goat beat him hands down.
‘A goat can live for twenty or more years,’ a friend told me kindly, ‘but I suggest you don’t tell your kind and unassuming husband that.’
‘He’s probably not far off old age,’ I replied and instantly felt sorry for poor Billy.
I knew we couldn’t keep Billy indefinitely, our home for waifs and strays just wasn’t right for him.
‘We could rent him out,’ I said jokingly, to my kind and unassuming husband many months later. ‘Someone must need a natural lawnmower.’
He shook his head and said that Billy deserved somewhere permanent. I agreed.
It was after Billy got into the allotment, that we sought a new home for him. I asked Tom the Egg (he really did exist) if he would put some posters around the villages and off he went on his new bicycle.
Within two days, someone called and asked all about Billy. What he looked like, colour, size etc. When I had given them a full description, they asked if they could come to see him straight away.
Well, what a surprise. Billy found a new home on the stage. He was to star in a play which was running for another four nights, then live the rest of his days on a farm close by.
I have often been to visit Billy and delighted to write, that he is a happily retired acting goat.
Goodnight Billy! I often wonder where you came from.