Oatcake, the Shit-Show, and the Need For Bosco

Jennie had a dream. I said. She had a dream that we had a sweet goat named Oatcake.

Wyatt’s brown and white. Sophie said. Maybe his name is Oatcake!

We laughed and laughed and loved it and decided to try it out.

We were both dressed in our hiking dresses with leggings. Me in pink and pink, and Sophie in teal and grey. My brown hair in a ponytail and a blue buff, Sophie’s green hair held back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck with a floppy hat on top that matched Sharkey’s ears. We felt lovely and wonderful and geared out and ready.

And it was a Shit-Show at the beginning. We put a bell on Bosco and he lost his mind, running and bucking and trying to get away from it. We finally caught him and took it off, but then he wouldn’t let us put his saddle on, so we decided to leave him home. We put a bell on Wyatt/Oatcake, and he didn’t mind a bit. He even seemed to like it.

Wyatt/Oatcake wanted to get back in the yard with Bosco, even though he can be intimidated by Bosco. Sharkey and Jon Snow bubbling around all over the place, getting twisted up with each other and with us. One eating twizzlers out of my pack and the other out of Sophie’s pocket. Oatcake hollering in the background. (Yes, we caved on the Twizzler front and now we had goats with sugar cravings.)

We let everyone loose and then tried to narrow it down to one goat at a time getting dressed. Jon Snow couldn’t hold still, wagging his tail and getting all up in my business while I was on my knees trying to buckle the buckles on his saddle. Oatcake was back by then and everyone was trying to eat Mom’s yard, so Sophie was running around telling everyone NO and shooing them this way and that. Sharkey trying to eat Jon Snow’s saddle while I was still buckling it…

Eventually we got Sharkey and Jon Snow dressed and put some weight in their panniers and put Oatcake on a lead and we headed down the quiet part of the circle. Oatcake hollered really loud and balked, but only for about five minutes this time, so we high-fived when he quieted down.

The lady who plays in the orchestra down the street came out to take our picture, and everyone posed like they knew what was happening. No one freaked out at two cars that went by, or at the horse who neighed and snorted when we passed. Oatcake forgot to check himself out in the window of the house, and then we were on BLM land and let everyone off lead.

No one wanted to be the first goat in the string. For the entire walk.

Sophie jostled and pushed them along from behind. I tempted them with treats from the front. They all jockeyed for position at the rear. Over and over. For hours.

Jon Snow was pooping out after only a mile with weight on his back. Panting with his tongue out. We stopped a lot to let him catch his breath on the super steep uphills.

He’ll get stronger. I said.

Yes, of course. She said.

We finally headed home hours later and only three miles under our collective belts. Lori and her kid pulled up to us, and rolled down their windows.

Nice job ladies, she said. Way to go! You’re doing great!

We made it home relatively uneventfully, with the exception of only one asshole who didn’t slow down when he blew past us in his fancy, shiny black SUV.

Asshole. I said out loud to nobody.

We learned that we need Bosco to go with us. To lead the way. To be the pack string leader. To pull everyone along with his strength and tenacity and will.

We are thankful for our little team. Getting stronger every day. Learning to work together. Teaching me and Sophie to work together too.