Sounds of Terror

I am sleeping peacefully, dreaming peaceful dreams, in my peaceful house, on a peaceful morning.

It is very peaceful, you see.

Then, quite suddenly, the peace and quiet is torn apart by a sound that has me sitting bolt upright and exclaiming, "What the heck is that?"

It sounds like somebody dying. Painfully.

For a moment, I don't want to move. In the privacy of my head, I wonder what could cause such a terrible sound. Is it even possible that so horrible a sound can be made? What in all the world?

Steeling myself, hoping I don't come across some gory scene of anguish, I pull open my blinds and look out the window. . .

No, it isn't something dying. It isn't something or someone being horribly tortured within an inch of their life.

It's worse.

It is (shudder) the goat.

Now, you would think that after having owned goats for more than three years, one would be used to the sounds they make, however disturbing they may be. You would think that one could become immune to the never-ending hunger and the bleats of insanity.

Ha.

I wish.

But truly, one can never be at ease with the. . . ominous noises that emerge from a goat's mouth. How can you be at ease with a noise that, quite literally, scares your socks off you? Unless you're not wearing socks, of course. In which case, the sounds just scare the heck (whatever that is) out of you.

But seriously. Disturbing noises.

The first few times that I awoke to such noises, it nearly stopped my heart, because the sounds that emerge from the goats' slimy throats truly are very terror-inducing, and are clearly the stuff nightmares are made of.

As time passed and my family and I became more accustomed to the goats and their disturbing traits, we were able to stop ourselves from jumping in fright every time we heard one of the goats, but still, we could never quite steel ourselves against the wiles of the enemy.

There have been many times when I have wondered if the sole purpose of existence for goats is to terrify their owners to death. Though I do admit that some goats I have come across have (dare I say it?) actually been nice, the memories of goats that are most predominate in my mind are those in which the goat bites the back of your neck, drags you across the yard, kicks the milk bucket over, and rams you in the legs.

Painful.

And so remains the question: What is it that makes goats the hideous demons they are? What is it that makes them seem to try with ever greasy fiber of their beings to make the lives of us, their unfortunate owners, as miserable and horror-filled as they possible can?

I'll be honest with you. I don't ever want to find out. Delving that far into the life of the goat is just too terrifying a prospect for me. I may be brave, but that is a mission that truly would be suicidal.