Cats transported by me… And Queen Cece on her throne, back at my shack!
Cece’s “Auntie” gave her cute kitty toys today …
… plus an adorable little kitten bed and blankeys! Thank YOU, sweet Auntie!
There’s no bleating in baseball
By Amy Skylark Elizabeth
Dear Cubs and Indians fans,
Congratulations! As a baseball fan myself, I’m psyched to see this World Series match-up, but as someone who runs an animal sanctuary that is home to three goats, I dread seeing how the Curse of the Billy Goat is going to play out.
We baseball fans are a superstitious bunch, so I know that some Cubs fans believe that their team is in the World Series because the Curse of the Billy Goat has finally been lifted. Allow me to explain: The last time the Cubs won a World Series was in 1908. Fast forward to 1945 when they were just two wins away from clinching the title. Then, in walks a man with a goat (I kid you not). A fan named Billy Sianis took his goat, Murphy, to Wrigley field to watch game four. Even though Murphy had a ticket, he wasn’t allowed in. Legend has it that Sianis put a hex on the Cubs by declaring, “The Cubs ain’t gonna win no more!” True to his prophecy, they haven’t won a World Series since.
Fast forward to today. Cue the goat abuse. Hoping to keep the Cubs curse alive, some Indians fans have been dragging goats around on leashes at Cleveland’s stadium. Just west of Indian territory, herds of Cubs fans are trying to kill the curse and extend “goodwill” to goats by groping them at local zoos. In past years, the Cubs have even tried to appease the baseball gods by trotting a goat onto the playing field to “reverse the curse.” Others are feasting on goats. According to estimates, there has been a 25 percent increase in goat meat this fall in Chicago.
None of the above would fly with my ladies. Goats do not like to be walked on leashes. I learned this the hard way when Baby Jane escaped from the pasture and into my garden. Her verdict? Leashes are bad; carrots are good.
My goats would curl their lips at having to be confined to a zoo or placed in centerfield. Every day, my girls run to greet me, wagging their tails like dogs. They know their names, and Birdie knows how to unzip my jacket pocket to help herself to treats. They like lots of room to run, play, graze, nap and climb. They have a “ruminant rec center” made from connected planks, logs and fallen trees. Many a playful head-butting battle is fought there.
A zoo could offer none of this. And petting zoos? Two words: E. coli and salmonella. Petting zoos are unhygienic hotbeds of dangerous pathogens that will definitely ruin game day if they don’t kill you first. Plus, who likes to be groped?
Prudence was so afraid of people when I first got her that it took me three months of cajoling before she would let me touch her. I am still the only one she allows to touch her, but now she stands stock still in front of me with her head bowed so that I can scratch between her horns.
All of my goats were being raised for meat before they were rescued from neglectful and abusive situations. No goat wants to be slaughtered so that Chicago eateries can offer trendy goat tacos. I also have to question whether eating more goat meat is such a smart idea when you’re trying to reverse a curse that was supposedly brought on by humiliating a goat. Really, Chicago?
The Wrigley Field officials were right to deny Murphy entrance into the stadium in 1945. Goats don’t belong at ballparks, in petting zoos or on a plate. They belong in real sanctuaries. No matter what team you root for, please be a fan of goats by donating your money or time to a local accredited sanctuary. And take it from me, a self-professed bleatnik, goats are always a blessing—never a curse.