The Silence of the Goat

The other night Dave and I had a hard time going to sleep. It wasn't because of the neighborhood kids playing in front of our house because we have the only house with lights out front on the whole block. Nope. Dave found the breaker that turns off the front security lights and we switch it off every night at dusk...once everyone has headed home we turn them back on. It wasn't the random dogs barking. We've learned to tune that out as well. What was keeping us awake? A goat.

The people who live directly across from us aquired a goat that afternoon. We know the exact moment they brought it home because it started it's mournful bleating "mmmmmaaaaaaaaaahhhh, mmmmmaaaaaahhhhh", and it continued to bleat all day long. We figured once it got dark, it would go to sleep (logical, no?). Well, it seems this goat was an insomniac. All night long "mmmmaaaaahhhh, mmmmmmaaaaahhhh" every 10 or 15 seconds. Earlier in the day I had joked with David that the goat was probably going to be dinner one night. At about midnight, I was willing to go over and fire up my neighbor's bar-b-que.

The next afternoon David, Blaine and I were heading out to catch a cab for a little shopping and lunch downtown and as we were leaving the house it hit us - silence. No crying, bleating, annoying goat sounds. As we walked on the path next to our neighbor's fence, we heard slamming/chopping sounds - much like those I heard at the butcher shop when the butcher took his axe to the side of beef. I tried to stop and peek through a hole in the fence, but Dave just pushed me along, embarrassed by my nosiness.

When we got home that evening, there were still no goat cries, but there was a lovely bar-b-que smell in the air. I wonder if they ate him with some fava beans and a nice chianti?