by Dianne Bates
The lights flicked back on.
‘Heeheeeheee.’
‘Not funny, Dad.’
‘Sleep tight, boys. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.’ And the light was off again.
‘Dad jokes,’ Rory whispered.
‘I know. He’s always doing dumb stuff like that.’
‘My dad’s the same. He just can’t help himself. It’s pretty silly, but I kinda like it.’
‘Yeah.’ Trang smiled in the darkness. ‘So do I.’
After ten minutes of kicking the doona into shape, Rory sat up. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get to sleep. I keep thinking about that Levi guy. Did you make that up? Or is it a true story?’
He waited for Trang to answer, but there was only a snore.
Two days later Rory and his family were going for a drive in the country to buy the goat. Trang couldn’t go with them, but he had some last-minute instructions for Rory.
‘Get the best goat you can.’
‘I will.’
‘Don’t get a cranky one. Get one that’s nice and happy.’
‘Done.’
‘And make sure that—’
‘Relax! I’ve got this.’
They were hardly out of their street before Mum and Dad started to sing. Their songs were old as, but Rory and Luna still joined in.
At the top of their lungs they sang ‘Ten Green Bottles’ (every time a bottle fell off the wall, Dad tooted the car horn), ‘She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain’ and ‘On Top of Spaghetti’.
Then to the next game.
Rory wanted to play Spotto. Luna wanted I Spy.
‘We played Spotto on our last trip,’ Mum said. ‘So it really should be I Spy this time.’
‘Yay!’ Luna bounced up and down in the seat. ‘Thanks, Mummy.’
‘But honey,’ Mum adjusted the rear-vision mirror so she could see Luna, ‘are you sure you want to play it? You’re better at playing with colours than letters.’
‘I can do it. It’s easy!’
‘All right then. Have a try.’
Luna thought about it for a moment. ‘I know! I spy with my little eye, something that starts with H.’
Mum and Dad tried: Hair. Handbag. Hand. Hairspray. Handle. But they were all wrong.
The only thing Rory could think of was Head.
‘Wrong!’
Dad gave up. ‘You win. What is it?’
Luna pointed at Rory. ‘HIM!’
After driving for nearly an hour, and drinking lots of water, it was time for a toilet break.
‘This’ll do.’
‘I can’t see a toilet, Dad.’
‘Don’t need one. We’ll go behind the trees.’
Mum and Luna went first. Dad and Rory kept watch to make sure no cars were coming. The road was empty.
‘All clear!’
Then it was Rory’s turn. The road was still empty.
‘All clear!’
A minute or so later he came out from behind a tree and Dad took his place.
As soon as he did, cars started whooshing along the road in both directions.
‘Wait,’ said Mum.
‘Wait,’ said Rory.
In case he hadn’t heard, Luna bellowed, ‘WAIT!’
Dad’s head bobbed up from behind a bush. ‘I can’t wait any longer. No one will see me.’
Just then a bus drove by. The driver blasted the horn. People leant out of the window and waved. Some of them were laughing.
Dad scuttled back to the others, his face bright red. ‘Do you think they saw me?’
‘They didn’t just see you, Todd – they’re probably posting photos of you onto the internet right now.’
Luna slapped a hand across her face. ‘Oopsy!’
On the other side of the road a flock of sheep huddled up against the fence. The family went over to take a closer look. Luna ran ahead. She’d seen sheep at petting zoos and at the Easter Show, but she’d never seen them running freely in a paddock.
She reached out.
‘Daddy. Can we have one?’
‘Sorry. No.’
‘Why?’
‘You can’t have every animal you see.’
‘Not every. Just this one.’ She patted the sheep’s woolly head.
‘You can help me and Trang look after the goat,’ said Rory.
‘Okay.’ She nodded. ‘Goats are cool.’
They only had to drive for another ten minutes before they reached the goat farm.
As soon as Dad stopped the car, Rory jumped out. ‘Wow!’
There were so many goats that he couldn’t count them all.
‘Maybe we should buy two. One for me and one for Trang.’
‘And one for me,’ added Luna.
‘That might not be such a good idea.’ Mum made a face at Dad. ‘Let’s start with one goat for now.’
Mr Henry, the goat farmer, came over to say hello. He shook everyone’s hand. And Luna beamed when he called her ‘Princess’.
They walked up the hill to a barn. In a pen were five goats. All of them had big, full udders. Like balloon water bombs. The goats wandered over to check out the new people.
Rory crouched down to look at them. They were all dark brown except for one that was white with chocolate patches. She pushed her nose through the wooden fence. It smacked damply onto Rory’s cheek.
‘Ooh yuck.’ He shuddered as he wiped his face.
‘I think she likes you.’ Mr Henry knelt beside him. ‘Goats can be fussy. They don’t like everyone.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Got too many goats to give them names, mate. I’d never remember them all.’
‘I know what I’d call her if she was mine.’
‘And what would that be?’
‘Jellybean.’
‘Really?’ Mr Henry took off his hat and scratched the side of his head. ‘Strange name for a goat.’
‘My friend Trang helped me pick it. We both love jellybeans.’
‘Right. Okay. That almost makes sense.’
‘I like jellybeans, too,’ said Luna.
‘Is she healthy?’ Mum laid her hand on the goat’s back.
‘My word. In top condition, this one. Been a good mother, too.’
‘Is that going to be a problem?’ said Dad. ‘I mean, we don’t want to separate her from her family.’
‘Her kids are old enough to look after themselves now. Don’t need their mother anymore.’
Mum was looking a bit sad. Rory gripped her hand. ‘Don’t worry. I still need you. So does Luna.’
‘Thanks, sweetie.’
Mr Henry ripped up a tuft of grass and gave it to Rory. ‘She’s always hungry. Try her with this.’
‘Okay.’ Rory held out the grass. ‘This is for you, Jellybean.’
The goat chomped down every bit, then licked Rory’s hand.
‘You want to feed her too, Princess?’
‘All right.’
Mr Henry patted the goat as she fed him.
Rory turned to Mum and Dad. ‘I wish she was our goat.’
Luna clapped both hands in front of her face. ‘I wish too!’
Mum moved closer to Dad and whispered in his ear.
Rory didn’t think he could bear to wait much longer – and he didn’t have to.
‘Okay,’ Dad said. ‘Jellybean’s our goat.’
One week later, on a Saturday afternoon, Mr Henry’s truck pulled up outside the Hunters’ house.
‘She’s here!’ Rory ran next door to tell Trang and his family the good news. ‘Jellybean’s here!’
‘My parents are shopping.’ Trang hurried after him. ‘And Grandma’s asleep.’
‘Not sleeping.’ Grandma called out from her bedroom. ‘I’ll come to see the goat
, too.’
Mum, Dad and Luna were already waiting in their front yard as Mr Henry backed down the driveway. Jellybean stood in a wire pen on the back of the truck, peering all around her.
Perched high on Dad’s shoulder, Luna waved and yelled hi.
Maaa!
‘Daddy, Daddy – she said hello!’
‘She’s a clever goat, all right.’
Trang and Grandma joined the Hunters as Mr Henry lifted Jellybean off the truck and clipped a rope onto her collar.
Mum took out her camera and fired off shot after shot.
‘She looks cool.’ Trang nudged Rory. ‘You did good.’
‘Who wants to have a go at leading her around the front yard?’ Mr Henry held up the rope. ‘She’s pretty easy to manage.’
One by one, everyone walked with Jellybean. When it came to Grandma’s turn Rory and Trang kept pace beside her, to make sure she wasn’t dragged over. They did the same for Luna.
‘Look at me, Mummy.’ Luna almost toppled over as she turned to wave.
‘Seems like my goat’s found herself a good home.’ Mr Henry leant against his truck. ‘Yeah, I think this’ll work out fine.’
Then, once he had inspected Jellybean’s new pen, he gave her a rough pat on the back and declared the pen just right. ‘One last thing before I go,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to give you a quick demo on how to milk her?’
Dad shook his head. ‘We’ll be right. It shouldn’t be too hard.’
‘Good luck.’ And Mr Henry climbed into his truck and drove away.
With Rory and Trang leading Jellybean, everyone walked down the side path to the backyard. As soon as they opened the gate, they ran into Bitsa. The hairs on his back stood up.
‘He’s scared.’
‘Yeah, Grandma. He’s probably never seen a goat before.’
‘Hey, Bitsa.’ Rory smoothed his hand over the dog’s coat. ‘This is Jellybean. She’s going to be your new friend.’
Jellybean charged forward and Bitsa jumped clear.
Rory hauled Jellybean back. ‘I don’t think they like each other.’
‘Leave this to me.’ Trang squatted in front of Jellybean. ‘Be nice,’ he ordered, in a deep, growly voice. Then it was Bitsa’s turn. ‘Now listen here, dog! You be nice, too – or you’ll be in big trouble!’ He nodded to Rory. ‘They should be okay now.’
Rory still wasn’t sure. ‘What if they have a fight? And hurt each other?’
‘Let them check each other out,’ Dad said. ‘If they start fighting we can soon break them up.’
Bitsa hunched down onto his belly, watching every move Jellybean made. She gazed back at him with her bright golden eyes. Then she took a step towards him. Another step, and then another.
Soon the pets were very close. Bitsa wasn’t as tall as Jellybean, but he didn’t seem afraid. He sniffed her tummy, her legs, her rump, and her face. She did the same to him.
Jellybean bleated and nibbled Bitsa’s ears. Bitsa wagged his tail.
‘So far so good,’ said Dad.
Then they took off. Round and around the yard they went. Sometimes side-by-side. Sometimes chasing each other.
Mum played race caller. ‘It’s Jellybean in front – but here comes Bitsa!’
Luna giggled. ‘They’re so funny.’
Jellybean skidded to a halt. When Bitsa stopped, she head-butted him gently. He jumped back and yelped. Then she set off again, with Bitsa chasing and yapping.
They tore around the yard three, four, five times, until, exhausted, Bitsa slumped, panting, on the grass, his sides heaving in and out. Jellybean lay next to him. One of her legs rested on his back. He didn’t mind.
Luna plopped down beside them and stroked their heads.
Mum was still taking shots.
Then Jellybean decided that it was time for a snack. Ignoring Bitsa, she got up and headed straight for a rose bush near the garage.
‘No!’ Dad raced over and clipped the chain back onto her collar. ‘Hey, Rory, get the pen door.’
‘Right.’
Then Dad led her into her new home.
Jellybean trotted around, exploring every nook and cranny – there was a stack of room for her – and it wasn’t long before she put her head down, and once again started eating.
‘That’s the way, girl. You gobble up that grass. It’ll save me having to mow it.’
Grandma squinted at Dad. ‘It’s a big goat.’
‘Big is good. Isn’t it?’
‘Sometimes yes.’ Grandma put a hand to her chin. It had grey spiky grey hairs on it. ‘Sometimes no.’
‘What’s wrong with her being big?’
‘Because’ – Grandma rubbed her middle – ‘big goat means big eater.’
‘She can eat all the long grass.’
‘Yes, yes. She’ll eat the grass.’
‘Good.’
‘And all the flowers in the garden.’
‘She better not!’ Mum said.
‘Maybe eat clothes on the washing line, too.’
‘Really, Grandma?’
‘It’s true. Goats eat everything.’
‘Well,’ said Mum. ‘We might eat her if she’s not careful!’
Rory waved a finger at Jellybean. ‘You are only allowed to eat the grass. Got it?’
Trang put on his growly voice. ‘And no flowers or washing.’
Dad and Mum looked worried.
Jellybean looked hungry.
That night Rory was having the coolest dream ever. His team had just won the soccer grand final. Even better, he had scored the winning goal. His teammates cheered and lifted him up on their shoulders. Epic! But then he heard a loud noise. It wasn’t part of the dream.
Maa! Maa!
He sat up in bed.
Surely, she’d have to stop soon.
He snuggled back under the blankets. But Jellybean didn’t stop.
Maa! Maa!
‘Are you awake?’ She’d woken Dad, too.
‘Hard not to be. I heard Jellybean.’
‘So did everyone else in the street, most probably. Come on, let’s see what’s wrong with her.’
Jellybean was standing on her hind legs. Her front hoofs were pressed high up against the wire of her pen. She bleated when she saw Rory. It was more a call for help than a hello.
‘Her fur’s wet, Dad. It must have been raining. That’s why she’s unhappy.’
Dad felt her fur, too. ‘Don’t think it was the rain that bothered her. It only lasted five minutes.’
‘Maybe she misses her babies.’
‘Or the other goats.’
‘What are we going to do?’
‘Beats me.’
It wouldn’t be daylight for another three hours. Jellybean could make a lot of noise between now and then and the neighbours weren’t going to be happy.
‘I’ve got an idea, Dad.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Jellybean can stay in my bedroom. Mum probably wouldn’t like her to sleep on my bed, so I’ll keep her right next to it. ’
‘Could get a touch messy.’
‘But having her on the carpet would be okay, wouldn’t it?’
‘I don’t think so. She’d probably eat it.’
‘Then what are we going to do, Dad?’
‘She can sleep in the garage.’
‘But there’s no room.’
‘I’ll make a space. It’s about time I got rid of some of the junk in there.’
‘Okay.’
‘You go back inside. I’ll look after Jellybean.’
When Rory got into bed, he heard a few bleats every so often for maybe a half an hour – and then nothing.
Looked like Dad’s plan had worked.
It wasn’t till morning that he
found out Dad had been awake most of the night.
‘I went out to talk to her every time she bleated.’ He yawned. ‘She was lonely. Hopefully she’ll get used to it here soon.’
‘She’s been quiet for a while now, Dad.’
‘I gave her a big feed. She’s probably been too busy eating to make any noise.’
‘Can we check on her?’
Rory opened the garage door and there was Jellybean chomping on a lump of wood. The food that Dad had left for her was all gone and the floor was littered with what looked like round pebbles.
Rory took a closer look. ‘It’s poo! How can so much of it come out of one goat?’
‘Good question! Looks like Jellybean isn’t an ordinary goat. You’ve heard of Superman, right? Well, Jellybean’s Superpooper.’
‘Yeah!’ Rory laughed as he rubbed Jellybean’s nose. ‘I knew you were special.’
After they’d cleaned up the garage, it was time for milking.
Rory’s first thought was to invite Trang over to help.
Dad glanced at his watch. ‘Might be too early to get him out of bed.’
‘Maybe we should wait till later, so he can be here. He’s milked his uncle’s goat, so he’ll know what to do.’
‘No need. We’ll be fine.’
‘When was the last time you milked a goat, Dad?’
‘Never. But I’ve read about it online. It’ll be easy.’
Dad rolled up his sleeves. ‘Here we go.’ He slipped a bucket under Jellybean’s udder. Then he held one of her teats.
‘Wait.’ Rory tapped his shoulder. ‘Doesn’t that hurt her?’
‘Not at all. She likes being milked because when her udder’s full, it’s uncomfortable. That could be another reason why she was restless last night.’
‘Okay.’
‘It said on the net that you squeeze gently, Rory. Like this. And then let go. Squeeze and let go.’
Only a tiny dribble of milk came out.
‘Hmm.’ Dad stared into the bucket. ‘I thought she’d give more than that.’
‘She might be empty.’
‘Doubt it. I’m probably not doing it right.’
‘Can I have a try?’
‘Be my guest.’
Rory squeezed – but there wasn’t even a drop. ‘I’m not a very good milker.’
‘Keep trying.’
