I’ve gotta say it: I know next to nothing about goats. Sure, I’m a vet and I can tell a rumen from a reticulum about a mile away. And I’ve long desired a goat after falling in love with them in my field service rotations. But that doesn’t mean I know a damn thing about ‘em.

In fact, I’m feeling pretty darned stupid after this weekend’s marathon of shelter-building, goat-catching, fence-laying and feed-store spending sprees. I’m all goated-out. And I know precious little more than I did when I got myself into this.

I feel like one of my new clients, first pup in tow, with a list of questions as long as my arm and a sheaf of paper fresh off the printer after downloading the “Unabridged Online Encyclopedia of Puppies.”

To make matters worse, I’ve managed to secure an appointment with a vet. I don’t know why this should be, but I’m a tad embarrassed by the act of making an appointment to see someone of my own kind. With my dogs’ specialists it’s different: I’m a colleague. With a goat vet? Let’s face it; I’m a client.

It’s just that I have so many questions on my long list. How long? Oh…dunno…about as long as my arm. And my printer? It’s been on overdrive since Poppy arrived.

Seem’s fitting, don’t it?

I will never, ever complain about my “clueless” new puppy appointments. When they ask me, “What time of day should I feed her?,” And, “When should we spay him?” I will no longer have to strive to contain my overworked vet’s frustrations with what I’ve been known to call (in my snippiest moments) “Stupid Pet Questions 101.”

Someone up there has decided it’s payback time. And I’ll jut have to take it. Because I think I’ve just written up a new chapter’s worth of “Stupid Goat Questions 101.”

By the way, does anyone know what kind of goat this is?

Do you think I’m feeding her correctly? (joke)

And what does this ear tag mean? It says: TNBX 2805. Is that her Breed and DOB? She looks way younger than an '05 model. Somebody help me!