“I’m so proud of you. I can’t wait to see it.”
“You’ll come?” The grin she’s wearing is contagious.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” We continue on the path until we reach another enclosure. “They have a petting zoo. Do you want to pet the goats?”
She nods, wide-eyed like a kid in a candy store.
A teenage worker lets us in, pointing out the food for the animals along with the hand-washing station. Evie grabs a cup of food and heads off to feed a baby goat. I follow behind, staying close but not enough to make her feel smothered.
A goat walks over to me with a swagger I didn’t know goats could have. He’s very obviously male from the way hisunmentionablessway with each over-the-top step, like he’s trying to show off how dominant he is. While I love dogs, I’m notsure goats are really my thing, especially after this little display, but I squat and pat the goat’s back anyway, not wanting to offend his masculinity.
One minute, I’m petting the goat while keeping an eye on Evie. The next, I feel his horn in my pocket.
I panic.
The goat bleats.
He stomps his little hooves anxiously, trying to free himself. I carefully attempt to get his horn loose, not wanting to hurt him or myself. When the goat deems my attempts not good enough or fast enough, he pulls away. Hard.
I hear a ripping sound and pinch my eyes shut, not wanting to see whatever this stupid goat just tore open for all to see. When I work up the courage to look down, I gasp, horrified.
The goat didn’t just rip a little hole in my pants…he ripped my pantsoff. I glance around until I find him prancing around the enclosed space with my tan fabric pants attached to his horn, flowing in the breeze behind him like a flag declaring him king of the petting zoo.
This is what I get for wearing loose-fitting fabric pants instead of my tried-and-true leggings. I don’t want any stupid pockets where a goat can put its horn in and rip my outfit right off my body.
It’s like my childhood nightmare come to life of being in front of my class and realizing I don’t have pants on. Except, I’m a grown woman in her underwear in the middle of a children’s petting zoo. I’m not sure which is worse, but since this is my only pants-less occurrence in front of a crowd, I’m gonna go with this one.
I stand, pulling my sweater down, attempting to cover as much of myself as possible. With as much dignity as I can have under the circumstances, I rush over to Evie.
She’s looking past me as she says, “Ms. Kelsey.”
“Yeah?”
“Why is that goat wearing your pants?” She points at the devious little pants burglar.
“His horn got caught in them when I was petting him.”
“Did he ask before he took them away?”
I bite back a laugh, shaking my head. “Goats can’t talk, unfortunately.” Although, I’m not sure I’d want to hear what he’s saying now as he prances around triumphantly gloating.
He’s probably a verybaaa-dboy.
Evie frowns. “Mama and Uncle Ty always tell me to share. That’s not very nice if he can’t even ask if he can borrow them.” She’s quiet for a moment, her brows furrowed in concentration. “Goats don’t even wear pants.”
“You’re one hundred percent right, Evie girl.” I try my best to smile at her despite my current situation. “What do you say we get me some new pants so you can feed the giraffes?”
She nods enthusiastically. I do a weird waddle-slash-speed walk back to the entrance, where the teenage worker stares at me in horror. She glances over my shoulder, covering her mouth when she sees the goat still wearing my ripped pants as his badge of honor.
She holds up a finger. “Let me run to the gift shop and see if I can find you some…” She gulps. “New pants.” The angel of a worker returns a few minutes later, but with a frown. “Unfortunately, they only sell pajama bottoms.” She hands me cheetah print pajama bottoms, which I gratefully accept and immediately pull on.
Placing my hands on my hips, I say, “It’s a lot better than walking around with nothing. Thank you. How much do I owe you?”
She waves me off. “Nothing. Once I told the cashier your situation, they threw them at me and told me to hurry.”
I laugh. “So this isn’t something you see every day, then?”
The worker shakes her head, wearing a teasing smile. “Definitely not. Although, Snowball has always been a bit of a ladies man, always peacocking around.”
