Get My Goat

It is a sad truth that I can be fickle. To all of you who’ve heard me declare my undying love for you or anyone else, I’m sorry. It’s over. I’ve found another.

I first spotted him in a gallery window as we walked down Royal Street. It was love at first sight.

“You don’t like sculpture,” Tim reminded me.

“I like that,” I said.

Unfortunately, the urge toward wine and poolside chat waits for no woman, so I had to hurry to catch up with my friends, leaving The Goat behind. Early the next morning, or maybe the morning after that, I went to visit The Goat again.


Oh, Goat, my Goat,


Why must these cruel panes of glass separate us?


Your enigmatic smile says you might love me, too.

On our last night in New Orleans, The Shop was open when we strolled by. At last! The Goat and I could be together.

The Goat was created by Eugene, Oregon-based artist Jud Turner. You can see better photos of the piece–its true name is GoatHaushere. Or you can navigate Turner’s entire website starting from here.

I’m reminded that the course of true love never did run smooth. The Goat, at many thousands of dollars, will never be mine. Good thing I’m fickle.

24 thoughts on “Get My Goat”

        1. This is what I get for reading these other than in order on my actual blog. I thought you were suggesting GoatHaus yodeled. Now I see you were speaking of the Debby-Terrorizer all along.

    1. Oh, man, the only thing better than this goat is a fainting goat. Also, those miniature goats that hop around. Apparently, I have a thing for goats. Could explain why I married a Capricorn.

  1. Alas, the poor Ram, forsaken by the fickle fate of window shopping for a goat that was not to be. Be content knowing that your four-pawed housemates would have hated it.

    1. I would LOVE to see Margot and Penny react to that goat. Pixie would wonder why it didn’t play. Guinness would ignore it.

        1. A chrome pterodactyl, perched on a hill top, with glass-block winged waterfalls that light up at night. The lower part would leased out by a diner, and I’d live in the head with the view. The neck would slope downward to a hidden swimming pool deck on the back.

          http://youtu.be/HOUYSLStGak

          1. That’s a cool pad you’ve got there.

            When I was a teen, the boyfriend and I once visited some friends who lived in an apartment on the back of a diner. The air was fragrant with brewed coffee. I could live with that.

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