Never Stare a Guard Goat in the Eye: Part 2.

Part 1 of the Escapade

I decided I would try one more place that was right across from where I picked them up - it's called "The Gardens". "The Gardens" is right on the highway, I drive past it weekly, there's a large lavishly painted sign proclaiming its name, in the spring I've watched with amusement as people just seemingly mill about, once I witnessed a drum circle as I went flying by on my way to the barn. What "The Gardens" actually is, is just a lady's house. I should mention it is also a hippie paradise; creations, sculptures, painting, strange random sheds, signs leading you to weird and wonderful sounding places litter the area. There was so many odd bridges and random buildings that I wasn't sure how to actually get to the house. I wish I would have taken photos, or could atleast remember the names of the buildings odd pathways attempted to suck me into, but it's safe to say I had wandered into the inner sanctum of a very different person than myself, very much in love with colour, and with windchimes, to say the least. I finally found my way out of the expansive "backyard" I suppose you could call it, (I followed figurines of fairies, magical frogs, and painted rocks), and made my way onto the large wrap around deck and knocked on the door of a brightly painted purple house.

Water was running instead the house, so I knocked again. I heard someone scream "I SAID COME IN!" I jumped a bit and slowly opened the wooden door. A woman peeked her head around the corner and seemed to surprise to see me - a total stranger, in her foyer. I smiled awkwardly and explained my story. She motioned for me to step inside, and a big old golden retriever ambled over to say hello, his name was Roy.

She told me she'd grabbed tons of dogs off the side of the road, and seemed genuinely kind and caring, she however - did not know the dogs. I told her about my encounter with the General Store - Kelly not seeming to car her dog was playing "Catch me if you Can" with semi-trucks on the highway, and the whole "Drop 'em and run" plan. I asked her, since she lived in the area, if that's what I should do, is that what one does with farm dogs? She replied that if it was her dog, she wouldn't want me too, and she wouldn't either. I smiled, she may live in a crazy hippie paradise house, but she was really nice. For the first time in two hours I felt comforted by someone about this little situation I had found myself in. Along with a bleeding heart, and a need to apparently dog, deer, and just generally animal snatch, comes a lot of guilt about outcomes, etc.

 We both agreed I should take them into Calgary, and into a vet clinic that will transfer them to the pound. Just as I was to leave she added, "You know what you could try - do you know the place up the highway that literally looks like they run a business on breeding animals in confined spaces?" I nodded, ridiculously I knew exactly what she was talking about. Similiar to "The Gardens", it was a ranch right on the highway that I had driven by thousands of times. There was a big barn, a round-pen, an outdoor arena, a ton of trailers, and a roping dummy always out front. There was also what looked to be way too many horses on a small piece of land. I had always wondered who those people were, and what exactly the place was. Most were blanketed, some were turned out in a nice big pasture, other were cramped in paddocks - it was a strange hodge-podge place.

"Go see if they know these dogs - I've picked up their dogs a couple times and dropped them back off for them."

As I went to leave she told me Roy would escort me out, and invited me back in the summer for a drum circle - I told her i'd be sure to stop by. Sure enough, that old golden retriever literally "escorted" me out, he walked me all the way to the front of the driveway, ever the gentleman - right beside me, never behind or infront. He then stood there as I walked to my truck, watching me and wagging his tail as a sort of doggie "goodbye, come again soon", or perhaps, given his surroundings, "Bye Man - Peace and Love to your family on your mystical journey". Who knows.

Back in the truck I went - by this time Bubba had half-perched on my centre console, and Collie had sort of half thrown himself on my passenger seat chair - still, ever worried, I kept my hand rested on him the entire ride and his shaking subsided. Bubba's drooling on the other hand, did not.

We made our way to the last ranch on our stop, there was a large gate, and I decided it best to get out and walk up to the house. I first peaked my head into a massive barn, it probably had 30+ stalls... all empty. I imagine when it was first built it was amazing, it was painted mostly white with green trim, huge aisle, however clearly over time it had been a bit neglected, and let go. There was a horse pacing nervously in the roundpen, he was clearly in trouble. There was a puppy running amuck, and a couple cats sauntered by me. A truck and trailer were parked at the mouth of the barn, and another truck was pulled over to the side. Yet, no one was around.

I wandered farther up the driveway, heading towards the house when I heard something behind me - I turned around and almost jumped out of my boots. A goat, a fricken goat, was trotting towards me. I didn't know whether to stop, run, yell... the goat did not look impress. As soon as I stopped, he stopped, and stared at me with his bright yellow eyes. Shit. I thought. These bastards have a guard-goat. I decided my best bet would to be continue moving, every step I took - that darn goat did too.

This goat was a lot more menacing when chasing you - i promise

The house has a massive dog run - perhaps I had found Bubba and Collie's home?! However, it was one of those houses where you just can't figure out where the front door was. I didn't want to creep around the property too much longer so I knocked on a door that seemed to be my best guess. I heard movement inside, but no one came. I knocked again - loudly. At this point the Goat had made his way onto the concrete steps with me, and was coming closer and closer. I knocked again - no answer. At this point the goat was beside me on the top step, and he was attempting to inch me off of it. He had big curled horns, and I just really did not want to cuddle with this darn goat.

I had my mom on the phone and whispered sharply that the goat was currently on the step with me. "Stare at it, maybe it'll faint - like in that movie!" I rolled my eyes, and kind of looked at it sideways - it stared right back at me... this my friends, was no fainting goat.

So, I kind of edged my way around the thing, and made my way back up the driveway - the goat followed! I kid you not at one point the goat attempted to herd me towards his pen - surely he wanted to eat me.

Finally, the goat stopped, and I half jogged my butt back to my truck. I jumped back in, a little shaken by my guard-goat experience, and turned to see Bubba, propped up on my centre console, staring at me. Bubba had a really big head, like a really, really big head. The thought crossed my mind that perhaps I should go outside and hang out with the goat, because this dog could bite my head off - literally.

Hi there.

However, I had gotten myself and these two dogs in this mess, so I was going to get us out of it. My mom had been on and off the phone the entire time, she wasn't being much help, but she was clearly getting more and more agitated that her only child was wandering around random ranches, and was missing a) packing for a trip b) a scheduled manicure and pedicure (my life is tough, I know).

So, we headed to the vets. When I got there, I'm sure I looked quite the scene. A vet tech and I brought Bubba and Collie in, and I waved goodbye to my two friends. They had me sign out some basic paper-work stating that I brought them in, where I found them, then, the girls at the front desk basically told me to leave.

"Well, how do I find out about what happens to them?"
"They will be impounded for 10 days, if they aren't picked up by their owners by then, they will be put up for adoption and then transferred to the humane society."
"Well, is there anyway to notify me of this?"
"No. You can check the Pound website to see if they are listed as impounded or adoptable, but we cannot release information on them."
"So, I wont be able to find out if their owners came to get them."
"No."We both stared at eachother.

"Well I want to know"The Vet Tech seemed bored, and slightly annoyed with me. She handed me a piece of paper and told me, "Say you'll adopt them, if they dont get picked up, you will be the first person the pound will call after 10 days."
"Adopt them? Well, I don't know if I want to adopt them!"She stared at me. I sighed.

"Okay, so If I say "yes" I will adopt them, hypothetically, the pound can call me and I can say that I changed my mind and don't want to adopt them - just so I can find out their status, right?"She nodded, "Yep, I guess."I stared at her - why wasn't she assisting in my bleeding heart agenda here?!

I filled out the forms, and asked them to check if either of the dogs were chipped or tattoo'd, the Collie was. Bubba wasn't. Then, I left.

The pound never called, neither dogs went up on the "impounded dogs" site, and when I called the City to ask if they were there, he responded that if they weren't on the website, they had obviously been picked up by their owners. Clearly, the City is on top of it's game when it comes to social media.

So, all in all, I guess the story has a good ending. I'm glad their owners (or owner I suppose) came to get my two adventure-buddies. I hope that they both escaped, and the owner/owners were scared sick - unlike Kelly, my "friend" with the Jack Russell. I also hope I did the right thing by taking them to the pound, I know people have to pay to get their dogs out, and so I feel kind of bad about that. However, I can't help but think that if someone found Moose (my dog) and he was far from home and they were advised to just "drop him off 10 km away in a field", and they did - he would probably never be able to find his way home. I would be forever grateful to pay the measly impound fee if it meant getting my dog back.