I’m the one who got Chloe and Paynter together. It’s my fault. I’m responsible.
And don’t give me any of that happy coincidence bull crap. Or it was an accident. Or karma or fate or—eye roll—whatever.
It was me. I did it.
You see, I didn’t really enjoy my life out on that farm. It was boring. Nothing but animals bouncing around, acting crazy, getting in my face and stealing my hay when I was looking the other way, usually scoping out somebody else’s hay to steal. One time those crazy ass farmers even had the nerve to dress me in pajamas.
I can assure you, that was the last time. Some scars don’t ever go away. Like the scar from when I caught a glimpse of myself as I trotted past the freshly-washed car parked outside the barn—it’s just as bad as the permanent bite marks indented in the farmer’s hand.
So anyway, I needed to get away from those animals. They weren’t my style. I needed freedom…or something. So I left. A cattle guard ain’t a goat guard, after all.
I trotted right down that driveway and wobbled over those really, really uncomfortable-to-walk-on metal things the farm laid across the ditch at the fence line. Then I bounced along next to the road—getting more than my fair share of horn honks, I might add. Once I reached the end of the fence line, I veered left and headed across the field next to the farm. Honks or no, it’s a little intimidating and maybe a tad scary to walk next to a road where giant metal contraptions on four—and sometimes two—rubber wheels zoom along at speeds I can’t even really fathom.
Okay, I admit I may have bounced a little at that point. Maybe a lot. But bouncing is so much fun, and that field was so wide open and…and irresistible. It’s possible I didn’t really mean to run away. It’s possible I only wanted to see if the grass really was greener on the other side of the fence. (It is.) It’s possible I was having so much fun leaping and jumping and vaulting that I didn’t realize I’d left the farm behind until, well, I did.
Well, it only made sense to forge ahead. Besides, there was a lake ahead of me and I was thirsty. And, well, I like splashing in the water. Which I did, a lot. Until I noticed something shiny on the other side. Well, not exactly shiny, but certainly interesting. Big, two-story brick buildings, surrounded by bright, colorful flowers.
Yummy flowers. I particularly enjoy hydrangeas, FYI.
So I trotted along the lake’s edge until I reached the yard belonging to one of those red brick structures, and then I headed straight for the pink and blue flowers.
That’s when the lady saw me, the one with the dark hair, big blue eyes, and red lips. The guy who lives next door says she looks like Liz Taylor, but I don’t actually know what that means, so… shrug.
Anyway, next thing I know, she’s wrapped a rope around my neck and is stalking toward the guy, who, by the way, is staring at her like he wants to eat her. It’s the same way I stare at the hydrangeas. And then she hands the rope to him and says the joke’s on him, and the next thing I know, my name is Dog.
But then she says that’s a lousy name for a goat.
Wait, you didn’t know you were reading a blog post written by a goat? You don’t think we can write blogs? We do it all the time!
In between eating the hydrangeas, anyway.
If you’re curious as to what the hell the goat is talking about (and whether he got stuck with the name ‘Dog’), check out Chloe and Paynter’s book, Sexy Bad Neighbor:
Tami Lund co-writes the Sexy Bad Series with Misti Murphy. Yes, there are other books in the series (Sexy Bad Daddy, Sexy Bad Boss, Sexy Bad Valentine). Yes, they are working on yet another book in the series. Join the Sexy Bad Lounge so you can stay up to date with what, when, where, how: https://www.facebook.com/groups/333091113758333/