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The Great Rodeo Trainers

My Brother Matt's problems with goats began when he was three. One of our nannies had given birth, and Matt seemed to enjoy chasing the baby goat around with a stick - not beating it - just terrorizing it. We made him stop, but that goat had a longer memory than we did.

A year later Matthew walked by that same goat, now grown and sporting a fully developed set of horns. Out of the corner of her eye, "Matilda" watched Matt approach. When he was right next to her, she reared straight up on her hind legs and paused briefly - long enough for Matt to register what was happening, but not long enough for him to get out of the way. Matilda delivered a head butt which drove Matthew straight to the ground on his rear. Once my brothers and I determined that he was OK, we expressed our deepest sympathy for his pain by rolling on the ground, laughing hysterically. Psychiatrists might claim that this episode has something to do with the way Matthew is today, but hey, what do they know.

Two years later, Matt is now six. I'm 18, and my friends and I consider ourselves rough, tough cowboys. We've ridden broncs in the local rodeos. We can trick-ride, and crack bull whips better than Indiana Jones. We weren't scared of anything or anyone. Except my Mom.

That weekend we had over a thousand bales of hay to put up, so naturally I invited my best friend Tim over to do some riding. When he arrived early Saturday morning ready to ride, I explained to him that we just had a few bales of hay to pick up and stack in the barn first, it won't take but a few minutes. The next day when we finished up, both lofts of our old barn were full, and in the center on the floor was a stack that reached all the way to the ceiling. I said "See, that didn't take too long now, did it?" Tim, being the good humored sort that he is, refrained from beating the tar out of me just then... barely.

Instead of riding, we decided to teach Matt how to become a rodeo star. Given Matt's size, we opted not to start him out on a full size bucking horse. Even the cows looked a little too large for him. We simultaneously arrived at the ingenious idea to use Matilda. Why not? She's small, doesn't kick hard, and we'd be right there to help if there was trouble! Matt agreed that it was a great idea, so we tied some binder twine loosely around her neck, and I held on to her while Tim lifted Matt onto her back. Matt would get a good hold, then he'd nod his head just like the real cowboys, we'd let go and

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