Row, Row, Row Your Goat
“Naa! Naaa!”
King Arthur had eaten through the rope that kept the floating dock tied to the pier. To complicate things, he was still on the dock and was now stranded in the middle of Lake Minnehaha.
I could run back to the kitchen to tell Ms. Jacqueline, but what could she do about it? She was petite and dainty and could no more rescue a goat from the middle of a lake than she could win an arm wrestling match against Coach Fox. There was Coach Fox, but he’d be at the playing fields. The barn was too far away for me to get Doc Mulholland—and I didn’t know if goats could swim. What if King Arthur got so scared he fainted and fell off the dock and drowned while I was away getting help? Actually, my life would be a lot easier if he did fall off and drown. Maybe everyone would feel so sorry for me that they’d let me pick any elective I wanted—even if it was already full.
Or…they’d all blame me for his death, I’d be charged with murder, and go to prison for the rest of my life. Better to rescue the idiot goat than spend my life in prison.
“Naa!”
He sounded pitiful, all alone in the middle of the lake. I tossed my hands up in surrender, walked over to where the life vests hung, and grabbed a couple. I wasn’t sure if he’d wear the life vest (or how I’d even get one on him), but I didn’t want him to drown if he fell in.
“You’d better appreciate this,” I muttered, climbing into a canoe. The canoe glided across the lake as I paddled for the dock. Moments later, I pulled up alongside King Arthur. He clip-clopped over to the edge of the dock and looked down at me.
“Naa.” His eyes were huge and all four of his legs were spread wide to help him keep his balance. The dock rocked back and forth.
“Stay calm—please don’t faint,” I begged.
With one hand, I grabbed the dock and slowly stood in the canoe. “Come here, boy, come on,” I coaxed. “The only way you’re getting back to the barn is if you get in the canoe.”
I tried several times to get him to jump into the canoe with me before giving up.
“Okay, it looks like we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”
I bent down and grabbed the floating, chewed-up rope that was still attached to the floating dock and tied it in a knot around my seat. The dock was too heavy for me to tow back to land. Plus, King Arthur might fall off once the dock started moving. When I was sure the dock and my canoe were firmly attached, I looked around to make sure no one was watching. I leaned in as close as I could to him.
“Boo!” I yelled.
He passed out.
Mission accomplished.
I knew I only had a few seconds to work. I quickly wrapped my arms around his stout body and pulled him off the dock and into the canoe with me. He was way lighter than I expected.
I clipped the lead rope to his collar, and I was even able to put the life vest around his neck before he stood up. I buckled it the best I could, but having never performed a water rescue on a demented goat before, I could’ve missed a vital step.
I hoped not.
“Don’t move,” I told him. I don’t know why I was giving him instructions. I knew he couldn’t understand me.
I carefully untied the rope from my seat and picked up the paddle. I pushed away from the dock and, moving slowly so I wouldn’t upset King Arthur, dipped the paddle into the water. I paddled at the pace of a snail through cement, but at least we made progress. He stood in the middle of the canoe facing me, with his trademark blank expression, mindlessly nibbling the end of his life jacket, while I rowed him toward land. The whole scene reminded me of one of those old-fashioned paintings—a young man rowing a boat with a pretty lady holding a parasol, only instead, this was a goat wearing (and eating) a life jacket. About halfway to the shoreline, King Arthur started to sway from side to side as if he was ill.
Just what I needed—a seasick goat.
“Easy there, Your Highness,” I said, hoping the sound of my voice would calm him. Instead, he got all twitchy and began to rock the canoe even faster. I dropped the paddle into the lake and grabbed the sides of the canoe with both hands. “Whoa! Stop moving!”
We were about twenty feet from shore. Even without the paddle, we probably could coast in if he would just hold still. King Arthur must have seen how close we were to land, because the next thing I knew, he leaped overboard, flipping me out of the canoe and into the lake.
I came up for a breath as King Arthur’s life vest floated past. I grabbed it and turned in a circle, looking for the goat. Had he drowned? Finally, I saw him.
King Arthur had made it to shore and was shaking himself dry. The canoe seemed to have righted itself after I flipped out and was floating a couple feet away. I swam over and flung King Arthur’s vest into it. I dragged myself out of the water, feeling ten pounds heavier than before I got wet. Hauling the canoe out of the lake, I glared at King Arthur as water dripped from my face. I swear, he grinned at me.
“Thanks for nothing, pal,” I sneered.
“Naaa.”
I sloshed my way over to him and picked up the wet lead rope. Babysitting would be a piece of cake compared to this.
“Let’s go,” I said, pulling him toward the path that led back to the barn.
Just then, Nathan rounded the corner and jerked to a stop when he saw us.
“Chloe?”
“Yes?” I tried to act normal, like I wasn’t soaking wet and there wasn’t a soggy goat dripping next to me.
“Uh, why are you and King Arthur both wet?”
“We went for a swim.”
“Just now?”
“Yes, we couldn’t do it earlier because he had finished breakfast. I heard you should always wait at least an hour after eating before swimming with a goat.”
Nathan stood speechless.
King Arthur ate a flower.
I felt like an idiot.