I once had a goat named Clover. We were the best of friends. I thought she was the most loving animal in the world. My friends called her "The Goat From Hell." They never forgave her for dragging six of us across the fair grounds. When I was 14 she kicked me in the face and broke my nose. She loved warm scones and kisses on her muzzle. When I was 16 she broke my foot. She used to always wait for me to get home from school. When I was 17 I dressed her up as Darth Vadar for a costume contest. I even adjusted the helmet so she could see. She got away from me and knocked over dozens of people by using the helmet as a battering ram. In my first Championship goat show she trampled the judge. The next year she broke the strongest choker collar money can buy. Whenever I was upset I would always sit in the pasture with her and tell her everything that was wrong. She would rub her head against my shoulder when I cried. She ate my friends ponytail. I think I was more upset when she ate my favorite book. Or the time she ate my first place goat showmanship ribbon. I used to sneak her in the house so we could watch movies together. She always loved the Lord of the Rings soundtrack. Then one day we realized that she was too old and sick. So I brought her a bucket of bite sized apple slices and a bucket of Coke. And the two of us munched on apples and drank Coke till the vet came to take her away.