Lost in Paradise, and Unleashed Dogs

It was 5:01 a.m. when I got to Sophie’s. I teased myself for being one minute late. We were trying to see what it was like to work the goats super mega early in the morning, as we would on trail. She hopped in with two energy drinks and we were off.

We watched the dawn break as we drove and it was still cold while we geared up the goats. Bosco was having a fit, and we couldn’t figure out why. He baa’d louder than ever and kept standing on his rear legs with his front feet way up on the barn. Hollering his face off.

Sssh. Be quiet Bosco! You’re okay, sweet boy! We hushed to no avail.

He thrashed around and broke his awesome reflective collar that even had his name embroidered on it and everything. Grrr. We just tied him up with another one we had lying around. So he didn’t win.

He fussed all the way down the street. Right in the middle of Morning Commute traffic. Right in the middle of some guy driving way too fast who didn’t want to slow down. Right in the middle of people trying to figure out if they hadn’t have their coffee yet or if there were really goats wearing packs walking down the street in their neighborhood.

Bosco, stop it! No! Sophie said and gave him a squirt in his face after he whacked somebody.

Bosco, no. I said when he reared up on his hind legs while a car was coming.

Bosco, this. Bosco, that. Bosco-Bosco-Bosco.

When we finally got out there and on trail, I let him off his lead and he did pretty well and we walked through the peace of the morning. The goats weren’t panting and weren’t complaining. It was still cold and we were still in the shadows of the morning.

I took pictures of my shadow and Bosco’s behind me when the sun finally did show up. And then it got hot pretty quickly. But we were the only ones out there, so we enjoyed the freedom of it all. I walked ahead of everyone, so I brushed through all the night’s cobwebs on the trail. Proof that we were alone. Sunlight glinting off them before they stuck to my arms and legs as I went by. We clung to the side of Prison Hill in the silence with just the cows lowing way, way down in the valley.

Lost in Paradise.

I turned to Sophie. I’m surprised you can hear the cows from way up here, I said. Her eyes got huge and she screamed WHOA-WHOA-WHOA!

I spun around as a runner barreled around a corner running full speed at us with two Unleashed Dogs. I felt rather than heard Bosco turn behind me and run. I turned around again and yelled at Sophie – Get off the trail! – just as the goats brushed right past her and ran down the trail. Time stopped for her. I turned again and faced the dogs, crouched down and put out my arms.

Everyone was so startled, no one knew what to do. The guy couldn’t figure out what kind of animals we had, but he just tried to get control over his dogs. The dogs were so shocked – they had no idea what a goat was, Sharkey had zingers in his feet and somehow hopped right over to where the dogs were and couldn’t figure out how to get back to me. I was calling Sharkey but keeping the dogs at bay. The guy was going, What’s this? What’s this? Want a cookie? Come! Here! Front! Cookie! – all the things you’re supposed to say to a dog, the dogs were barking and growling, the rest of the goats were gone, Sophie was doing something behind me, and Sharkey was still standing around ahead of me, trying to figure out what was happening and just kind of looking around with his ears flopping in his eyes.

When the guy had his dogs under control, he asked how many goats we had. We asked him if he was okay. He said yes and asked if we were okay. We said yes. We made some awkward small talk and he went way around us. It turned out, our goats hadn’t run very far away and they let us walk right up to them and take them back to where the incident happened.

After a while, our hearts went back to a normal rhythm and we were able to talk it out.

Then we met some lady and kind of unloaded on her about our incident and it felt good to dump our problems on somebody else. She nodded and said reassuring and validating things and that made it all even better and then we went on our way again.

We took a new trail but it was a steep downhill and Jon Snow laid down and almost rolled all the way over on his back.

Oh! Said Sophie. Oh My God!

We took all his stuff out of his panniers and gave it to Oatcake, who is such a big, tough guy, he didn’t even notice the extra weight.

We have a few weeks left to see if Jon Snow will cut the mustard, but if he can’t go downhill, we have to leave him home. I will be so sad…I’d love to be on trail with him.

Waiting for us at the gate were Sophie’s husband Joshua and two of their friends. They took some video and photos, which was nice since we don’t have any good ones of both of us with the goats.

Then we rehashed the story again and again until we all left.

Because That’s What Stories Are For.