The unusual sighting for today was a pack of dogs attacking a goat on the side of the Transpeninsular Highway. Robert noticed it first. I was doubtful. No, I'll show you, he said as he pulled a U-turn. Another motorist had pulled over and was hurling rocks at the dogs who already had the goat in a jugular death grip. The man managed to scare the pack off which consisted of five assorted domestic-appearing dogs. They scampered off through the desert brush while the goat, only wounded, ran into the drainage ditch under the highway. We all climbed out of the car for a closer look and to try to coax the goat out. What we would do with him we did not know. Finally we decided there was nothing we could do and turned to leave. Just then, he trotted to the other end of the tunnel and off into the desert.
On the way home we laughed at the incident, imagining the dogs at one side of the highway ticked off at the intervention that lost them their dinner. And on the other the goat returning to the herd with a whopper of a story, "they almost had me, I tell you, but baaaahhh, I fought em off! Yeah, that's what I did. Five against one and I let em have it." We did goat impressions all the way home and laughed so hard it hurt. "Ttthhhanks, humaaaahhns.
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