11:10 p.m. We had just settled in to watch movies after a long day of chores, family walks and goat care. Earlier, my mom took our daughter and the goat to her home for the evening. The phone would not stop ringing. “This is Mom. We just got back from the movies and the goat is gone! He must’ve gotten out of the cage!” Wailing and gnashing of teeth was heard in the background. “OK, I’ll be over there in about 15 minutes.” I scrambled for a flashlight and dowsed myself with bug spray, knowing that I’ll be looking for the kid in wooded areas in the dead of night.
On the road, my cell phone rings 3 times before I realize I’m being called. My daughter said, “Daddy, the goat is at the police station! Grammy’s neighbor took him there tonight. Meet us up there.” Click.
I arrived before my mom and daughter. Two friendly police officers stood behind the “Complaint Desk.” “Um, excuse me officers, but I was told that our goat was here.” Big grins spread across both their faces simultaneously. “Come on back.” After going through a series of doors, I ended up behind the “Complaint Desk” and saw the kid underneath it, standing on top of a Dell PC. She jumped off the computer and made a half-hearted attempt to nibble at the wires. The huge officer, a very tall, well built blonde/blue guy with no neck, went about his business. The smaller, slightly pudgy officer handed me a grocery bag and said, “I just got back from the store. I bought some canned milk and a baby bottle. We figured the goat would be here all night.” He had also grabbed little packets of honey, apparently to mix in the milk. He wouldn’t take money for it.
After I pulled the goat out of a tangle of wires under the “Complaint Desk,” my mom and daughter arrived. We apologized for the inconvenience and thanked the officers for taking care of her. “Hey wait, look at this,” the shorter officer said, opening his cell phone. On the screen was a picture of the kid next to the police K-9, a large German Shepherd. We all laughed together. As we were stepping away from the “Complaint Desk,” we could hear the short officer telling someone – probably his wife or kids – “Yeah, the homeowners just came here to get the goat...”
When I dropped the kid off at the farm yesterday, I talked to the farmer. He was “impressed” that we had a goat the entire holiday weekend. I didn’t tell him that his goat did a three hour stretch at the local police station.