I kept crossing paths with the painted metal goat in the local home store.
You know the type of store that has everything non essential for living. Wacky furniture, loads of fabric, thumb tacks, a seasonal aisle with fish shaped bbq tongs (whatever that means) and the smallest amount of groceries. You only came in this store if the big box store didn’t carry that thing you needed for your craft project you finally got around to, or you wanted to make fun of something.
The goat looked mass produced. There was an entire row of them where they normally put the Christmas trees or lawn chairs. Probably set out because summer was nearly over but no real holiday was coming up soon enough yet. My guess was that the goats were lawn ornaments. Who would ever want that in their house!?
I had come into the store three times for my project when the goat got the better of me. I had to get one. It had to be my lucky day, the goat was 50% off an already reduced price. Which tells me the store hadn’t sold many.
In fact, as the cashier rang up my items she got to the goat and said “Thank God, these stare at me all day.” I had worked in retail before and I understood her sentiment. Or so I had thought.
Weeks after purchasing the goat and placing it in my back yard near the garden I got a gnawing urge to bring it inside. There was a huge storm coming later in the day, but this goat was meant to be outside. I couldn’t pin the reason but I took it inside and put it near the staircase in the foyer.
It sat there another few weeks, greeting guests as they entered. Most of my friends had come to love the goat. Giving it the name of Scruffy. Which was ironic, since he had no hair. One friend in particular was fond of knitting sweaters for him. By Christmas he was very festive, a red hat, green vest, and little black boots all made out of yarn. I was impressed with her skills since she had never measured him and they all fit perfectly.
After Christmas had gone, I placed Scruffy the goats clothes in a box to put in the attic with my other Christmas decor. Something had felt off. Like the goat was now naked. I found the other sweaters my friend had knitted for him and got him dressed.
A few years had gone by and Scruffy had his own room, a closet full of clothes that went beyond knitting. I had found clothing specifically for him online. A whole community creating lives for their little goats bought from a home goods store. Friends and family that had not specifically met Scruffy in person were appalled at how much I had grown to care for him. They just didn’t understand. I had even begun feeding him, switching out the pellets in the bowl so that it was fresh everyday.
Until one day I knew I had forgotten to put fresh food in the bowl, I felt so bad. However when I went to check on it in the morning, it was gone. I didn’t have pets, but I searched all around the house for a racoon or something that would have broken in and ate it. Until I realized that it was Scruffy. A painted white, metal goat in a 4 piece Egyptian cotton suit that I had bought online specifically for him. He stood in the kitchen, which was not the last place I placed him. He stared at me and I stared back until I heard the faintest, “Hello!”
Yllenkcalb 