First a goat came and licked my newspaper.
Then she gently head-butted my knee until I abandoned my chair. She knocked it over, and then bit it.
It didn't seem that bad to me, but it came from my mother's house, and I think it must smell like dog. At any rate, they didn't like it, and pushed it around while I watched. Then Arlene noticed I had dropped my book on the ground and tried to eat it.
I pulled it away from her and tried to gain control over the situation. It turns out that goats don't really understand a firm 'NO,' like cats and dogs do.
They wouldn't listen to me at all...but one look from my husband, and they walked away and started grazing.
I can't even get respect from a goat. How pathetic is that?