Mind-blowing Passover

This happened a couple years ago. We went to Houston. Our friends had broken down so we picked up a trailer and went to retrieve them. We left the house by around four o’clock. By the time we got everything hooked up and were gone from Caldwell it was after 5:30. We grabbed a sandwich in Brenham and joined the Houston returning weekend traffic filing into the city. We cut across FM1960 north of town and saved some time and miles to our destination on Interstate 45.

             Dusk was approaching when we picked up Dale, Theresa, Amanda, Justin, Cheyanna, and our Rose. By the time we reached the disabled car, it was dark. Dale and I clipped two come-a-longs together and winched the car onto the narrow utility trailer. Then after setting safety chains, we loaded up. With the two big girls in the bed and the auto hanging over a little we crossed back to US 290 and began our journey home. We had lost a tread from one of the right tires on the trailer and it blew out a few convenient miles from a truck stop. Dale changed the tire while everybody else did all the drinks, munchies and restrooms stuff.

             A DPS trooper circled the parking lot and parked at the store. I think he was eying the overhang. We had turned on the cars parking lights before we left Houston. We turned them on again. I noticed the trooper eye us as we left, then enter the store. He didn’t notice that the trailer didn’t have a tag.

             The rest of the trip back was uneventful and we pulled in a little after midnight. Bodies began pouring off the truck and heading for the house. I was preparing to back the trailer out of the way. The goats were on the top of the station wagon, at least all of them but Chester, our bellwether. Shelby, one of our German Shepherd Dogs, came out from around the side and I thought she might have been hassling the goats, so I yelled from the truck to check for Chester. Tif and Rose did and Rose started crying and yelled that he was dead. Shelby came up to me and I kicked her away. She went running to her den.

             Then Rose cried, “Spot is here too! He’s dead too!” I yelled to get flashlights and I shut off the truck and hurried to a bizarre scene. Chester was stretched in Rigor Mortis under the shed overhang. Next to him between the corner post and Chester, lay Spot, our young Boston Terrier, on his back, unmoving, feet in the air. Spot’s front was covered with blood. Chester’s neck had been torn in at least three places and his right ear had been torn. His tongue was hanging clenched between his right teeth. Only one neck wound was visible at first since he was lying on his right side. Spot had marks resembling hoofs on his abdomen and his ribs and a couple gore marks, one deep in the chin area. But he quivered a little and I realized he was breathing!

             We got more light and examined Spot very carefully. His eyes began to move around, but his limbs only quivered. He looked like he was going to stop breathing any second. His eyes rolled around, but he didn’t respond to the lights. We checked out Shelby. She was clean and looked confused at my earlier anger. TR, our other German Shepherd Dog, had been penned up and Bongo was inside. Tif put the other goats away. I shot Spot. He was a birthday gift from our friends. A handsome Boston Terrier. We burned Chester on one of the bonfires. We had built a couple last month in preparation for the next fiesta. Guess a late Passover offering is better than none. God he was a good old goat. Just like the song he was named after, he didn’t smell bad at all. We couldn’t have ate him though. He was tough.