Sunbonnet Soliloquy

By Jewell Ellen Smith

A Goat, a Cowboy Tale, and Violets

Shrinking violets are, as the saying goes, few and far between. Almost all creatures -- both man and beast -- like attention and seek it, one way or another. Not long ago I was invited to a luncheon for a bride-to-be, held down near Coffee Springs, Alabama, at the country home of my friend Nancy Ellis. ‘Twas so pleasant.

The sun was shining, the flowers blooming. The lovely young honoree, Cindy Bond of Enterprise, was bubbling with joy, excited over the plans for her approaching wedding.

Cindy’s mother, Ruth Ann, charming and much fun any day of the week, was especially full of laughter that day. And each guest had a delightful bit of tongue-in-cheek advice to offer the bride-elect.

As I said, ‘twas all very pleasant. After the lunch and the opening of the bride-to-be’s special gift, we sat out on the glassed-in porch--looking out over the fields and green pastures, talking of this and that.

A goat walked past the windows.

“Good heavens!” hostess Nancy cried. “Miss Go-Go is out again! That goat will be the death of me yet!”

We all shifted our chairs and craned our necks to get a better look at Go-Go, a frisky, sleek brown and white creature. She came closer to the windows and craned her neck to get a better look at us. Soon, she ambled away.

We listened with much interest to the story of Go-Go’s life -- how she was one of triplets born some two years ago to a fine milk nanny, and how, since a mother goat is equipped by nature with only two faucets, Little Go-Go was always left out when meal time came round.

She was lying in the weeds, in the far corner of the pasture, half starved to death when the Ellis children, Joe and Della, and their parents found her.

Nancy picked her up in her arms, like a baby, and they brought her to the house and raised her on a bottle.

“She doesn’t know she’s a goat!” Nancy declared. “She wants to be right in the middle of everything we do -- to get attention, I guess.”

A little while later, when we were all out in the driveway, saying good-byes, opening the car doors, and telling once more how much pleasure we had had, Miss Go-Go came again.

She walked, politely as you please, from guest to guest, sniffing at our hands, our purses. She made the rounds, making sure that she was not slighting a single lady. Then with one graceful leap, she got into the back seat of the nearest car -- a Cadillac -- and settled herself down.

It took Nancy Ellis five minutes to literally drag that prissy goat out of the car and back to her pen. Not one of us helped her. We couldn’t. We were bent double, laughing so hard we weren’t able to lift a finger.

In getting her attention for the day, Miss Go-Go provided a hilarious ending to a very pleasant party.

Sometimes, unfortunately, people seek attention at the expense of others. Take the often-told story about kissing a mule. This old tale has made the rounds for years and goes something like this:

One day a group of cowboys, riding their horses across a shallow ravine, came upon an old prospector and his mule.

The cowboy in front whispered to the others, “Watch me, and we’ll have some fun with this odd looking pair!”

“How?” asked the second cowboy.

“You’ll see. Can’t you tell that the old geezer is as dumb as his mule!”

The others laughed, pulled up their reins, and waited.

“Dance for us, Old Man! Dance us a jig!” And the first cowboy began to fire his six-shooter at the prospector’s feet.

The old man danced. He danced quite a lively jig, which became almost like a Highland fling for as the shots rang out he kicked his feet higher and higher.

The cowboys noticed that the old fellow, now red in the face, kept moving his lips. And, one by one, he clutched down his fingers. He was counting.

As the sixth shot was fired, the old fellow stopped. He walked over to his pack mule, took down his rifle and pointed it at the smirking cowboy w3ith the six-shooter.

“Cowboy,” he asked slowly, panting between breaths, “have you ever kissed a mule?”

“N- N- No!” stammered the surprised cowboy, as his companions roared, “but I’ve always wanted to!”

Now, these tales about a goat and a cowboy who were trying to get attention should teach us something.

Please look for the lesson.

“You say you would like a little help -- maybe one more tale, or example?”

“Sure! I’ll tell you another one...

“Why do you suppose that one day many years ago I tied on a sunbonnet, had my picture made, and began writing pieces for the HEDGEHOPPER?

“It wasn’t to be as a little violet trying to tuck her head under the leaves.”

Published April 1982. Click your browser’s ‘Back’ button to retuirn.