Stand-off with a goat

It’s the early 80’s and we’re in Leitrim, Ireland. Meet granny Brigid, the woman who came to have a stand-off with a goat.

A summer’s day in rural Ireland, the goat round these parts was a typical goat. A light grey colour, large curled horns, but he had some serious attitude problem. A chip on his shoulder to say the least. And he certainly had it in for Granny.

Well, obviously me not being alive I’m piecing together a story I like many of the other grandchildren have been told. Some with truth and other pieces added for dramatic effect.

Well, on this summer’s day in rural Ireland granny decided to go down to one of the many fields. There in the green grass she was met by him. The goat. The light grey being with long curly horns on top of his head. With piercing eye that if you were to look into, he would take your soul and turn it inside out. Telling your whole life in an instant.

As they met, he corned her.

As she tried to move away, out of the field he cornered her again.

Moving here, there, everywhere she simply could not escape.

The goat had it in for her. Maybe he didn’t like the top she was wearing, maybe it was her short black hair he didn’t care for. Perhaps she smelt bad. Whatever it was, this goat was not giving in. He wanted her. Wanted her dead? Maybe. Who knows? I’m no goat expert.

As she ran around the field trying to escape him, he came at her with his long horns. Beating her down to the ground, like Mike Tyson biting Evander Holyfield’s ear off, this fight simply wasn’t fair. After all, she was only (and still is) a small Irish lady, well, she certainly holds her own. I wouldn’t go up against her that’s for sure.

Well, like Tyson against Holyfield, there wasn’t any let-up. A constant two and fro, this goat didn’t ‘take no mess’ as James Brown so superbly sung.

Like a kangaroo, as soon as you give him a set of gloves, up against him, you are nothing. A constant chase. With granny trying to solve the issue with a tea and slice of tea cake. Well, as you can guess that didn’t work.

For the whole afternoon I’ve been told, granny was running around in this field being beaten and chased by one angry goat. He simply did not like her. But in the end, grandad heard her roars and screams and came to her rescue. Not exactly a night on a trusty steed, but on a trusty tractor he was.

As she got home her skin was covered in bruises, beat to a post. She never liked the goat after that.

Well, the goat never liked her after that occasion. As you’ll find out in part 2 and 3.

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