He’s 11 years old, black hair brown eyes and not very tall, but it wasn’t his looks that Intrigued me, it was the tiny No horned goat that he carried around in a waterproof bag.
My first thought was – wow a boy with a goat as a pet, that’s a first. After some time and a long stare, curiosity kicked in and I just couldn’t help myself. He was with a rather tall man, I tagged him as goat boys father as I saw some resemblance. Me being shy when meeting new people, or should I say boys, did not have the courage to go and talk to him and his goat. Luckily my father swooped in, introducing himself and asking questions. I sat there watching but my father tends to talk too much and I got bored of staring at them and went inside to wait. After half an hour my dad opened the door announcing that he had found my future husband. Surely not, I thought to myself but listened as my dad told the tale of goat boy. He lives in Port Alfred with his father, a journalist for the daily dispatch and his goat is named TK.
TK is an acronym for Transkei, his home town. He was rescued when goat boy and his father were back packing through the Transkei on a motorbike. Goat boy just fell in love with him and would not leave until he had him. The Xhosa farmer, TK’s owner would not let goat boy take him. Fortunately Goat boy’s father pulled some strings and they finally were on the road with the goat in the water proof bag, all at the cost of goat boy’s cell phone. TK had an experience most goats cant Evan begin to imagine, Riding on the back of a motorbike, trekking through the transkei, eating luxury food and having all eyes on him wherever they went. Yes, TK was living the good life. After hearing the story, I just had to meat this dynamic duo, so that night, at supper; I was introduced to Quin, TK and Dave McGregor. Quin was quite a funny boy and we baby sat TK the whole of the next day as I found him utterly adorable! When the day came that we had to pack up and leave, it was decided that Quin and TK would get a lift home with us as it was raining so we gathered up TK’s belongings, filled up his milk bottle and made him comfortable in his waterproof bag. He was such a good goat, slept the whole way and only made a small bahhhh informing us that he had to pee. We quickly pulled over and let TK do his Business. After a long drive everyone started getting hungry so we pulled into the nearest steers only to be faced with the problem of where to leave TK. As we were ravenous, we put a leash on TK and dragged him into steers, he stared at all the people, bahhhhh’ed his way politely through the crowds. As we got inside, TK decided to drain the main vain and made a pee right in the middle of Steers. The manager was the only one who wasn’t laughing. After a long trip home we said our goodbyes to Goat boy and TK. My heart grew very sore as I watched them drive away.
Turns out, it wasn’t the last time I was going to see them. When we were in port Alfred for the long weekend, my father went down to the beach and guess who was there, Quin and Dave. After chatting to Dave, Quin spotted my dad and ran up to him, only the first words he muttered were: Where’s Chelsea!!??
