My Own Billy Goat Gruff

Caper is defined as a harebrained escapade, a criminal or illegal act, also Latin for a he-goat: all of these apply to Gruff and my relationship to him.

Gruff was a mess. He was "mental" as they say. It was not his fault that I was a little off myself for taking him as a guest on my property. I got what I deserved. He got what he deserved. It should have been illegal to own such an animal. Problem is, how does one get "kids" without one. You could buy them, but it’s illegal to buy and sell kids I think. Someone had given a nanny goat to me and I implemented what I thought was the next logical step.

Now the family that gave the goat to me was a great family. They believed in the laying on of hands for any malady. They laid hands on a stove to keep it from blowing up. They laid hands on the children so they would grow up. Knowing their great faith, I know they laid hands on Gruff. Apparently he maxed out their faith, because he came to me unsanctified.

Gruff fit in quite well and was, at first, warmly received by the cow, pony, calf, chickens, ferrets, pig, and 500 rabbits. He and the nanny were soon married and soon a kid was on the way. Once Gruff was a father, he began to feel his oats even more than when he first met his mate, and that is saying something. It was like Gruff didn’t know what to do with himself. He would pester the pony to death by nipping and chasing it to the end of the tether. The beagle would bark and head for the house when Gruff came out of the shed and across the lawn. The chickens would clatter and scatter. The pig threatened to eat him, but managed to keep his distance. The rabbits were glad to be confined to their cages, but you could see their look of disgust on their faces.

One of the chief ferrets was the one animal not intimidated by Gruff. The ferret was thrilled to be loose on the ground in the front lawn. He was quick and nimble and annoyed Gruff to no end. The ferret would scoot around between and behind Gruff’s legs, but could not be touched.

Homo sapiens were another story. Some of us were more intimidated by Gruff than others. The level of fear was lower if you were bigger and had a 2x4 in your hand. Gruff thought that he could butt you around with his beautiful horns any time your head was pointed away from him, he was out of you view and you provided him with a sure and soft target as you bent over to pick up that 2x4. If you could turn quickly enough to replace his intended target with a two by four going at a fast rate in his direction, both you and Gruff would have fun. He never really got too discouraged by the sleight of hand. He seemed to never meet a 2 x4 he didn’t like or at least immediately forgive.

One day I reached the acme of neighborly kindness and offered Gruff as a living sacrifice to a neighbor.

This particular man had many small animals and no family. He thought he was ready to upgrade in size from ducks to goats. Gruff went grudgingly to his new home. It was almost as if he already had a plan. He was put in a small shed with the door closed. No ponies or chickens to chase. Not even a ferret to run from. Undaunted, Gruff began to wear out the door of the shed. His new owner was fearful as to what would happen to his farm population if that Caper ever got out. The noise of a door meeting horns was painful. I was called in the middle of the night to come get the he-goat.

Gruff, like all good he-goats, had some other nasty habits that I cannot describe in this article. You will have to contact me privately to hear that part of the story. It only darkened the cloud over all of us and began to set the stage for a further adventure for him.

The final blow for Gruff came at the expense of one of my sons. As my son crossed the feed lot to which Gruff had free access, Gruff made his play. The boy was ahead of the goat as they both walked in the same direction. You get the picture. The soft target was just the right height. Swift contact was made. It was a bull’s eye. The boy took serious and immediate umbrage to the socializing effort of Gruff. He whirled around and grabbed Gruff’s horns and anything else available to the grasp. Gruff went down with the boy on top. That was okay and a fine scene it was. However, some unknown spirit came upon the boy and he was able to speak language that he had never been taught. And we didn’t even have to lay hands on him.

I kept my ear to the ground and the advertisement up. I heard that a man 20 miles south wanted a goat. Gruff was ready for new challenges with people whom he understood. I put him in the little VW and headed south. No one was home when I arrived. When they got home they would have Gruff, name tag and resume attached, waiting patiently at the end of a very short and very strong tether. Oh, yes! The resume clearly stated "No Return.”

(Walter Gienapp is the pastor at Mountain View Presbyterian Church, and
lives with his wife, Carole, in Lookout Valley. Five of his eight children live in the Chattanooga area with their families.)