This post first appeared on June 23, 2021.
Comedian Bob Hope served humankind by performing shows for military overseas. Dave Barry paraded with The World Famous Lawn Rangers precision lawnmower drill team. When asked to be our 4-H Fair’s Celebrity Goat Runner, I, too, answered the call.
But my friend mentioned the word “maze.”
I get lost in my driveway. “Please pair me with a goat with a good sense of direction.”
Instead, she promised the goat and I would run an obstacle course.
Visions of Goat Gladiators haunted me. Would the animal scale the Ferris wheel with me tied to his back?
Get real. Goats weren’t allowed on Ferris wheels. Besides, who would show up to watch us?
Only a few hundred spectators. So what, if my name as Celebrity Goat Runner echoed for miles over the fair’s loudspeakers?
Fellow goat handlers’ helpful hints encouraged me.
“Lift the leash,” one little girl advised. “If he still won’t go, lift his tail.”
I’d worn white Capris. …
My goat, Toby, bore a distinct resemblance to a long-ago teacher. Thankfully, Toby, like Mr. P., was hornless. Unlike Mr. P., he tangled with two young whippersnappers. But Toby hadn’t knocked me onto my butt. So far.
Of course, I went first.
“4-H-ers,” said the announcer, “watch our Celebrity Runner carefully so you’ll know what to do.”
Not good. Especially when Toby decided God didn’t make him a hurdler. I politely requested he move. One step? Please?
He not so politely declared he wouldn’t.
I lost it and said his nanny wore combat boots. He said, actually, his mother ate combat boots. Toby devoured my shoelaces to emphasize the point.
Finally, I yanked him along. Digging in hooves, he skied halfway through the course like a motorboat-powered beauty.
Toby wasn’t required to make a basket using a NERF ball and a toy shovel. Why me? Perhaps my pitiful basketball prowess won his sympathy. He refrained from balking, butting and making derogatory comments about my mother. Or maybe Toby decided cooperation was the quickest way to end this agony. We finished 23rd out of 23.
Afterward, a different friend (where do I get these friends?) said he’d never met a celebrity goat. Did I get his autograph? What was he like?
I told him, “When you get to know them, they’re just regular people.”
Your Extraordinary Ordinary: Have you ever met a celebrity goat, up close and personal?