You may have had a hankering that I grew up on a farm based upon this title and a similar post from last month (ONCE UPON A TIME, WE HAD A MINI HORSE), however, I just grew up in a suburban town with a pretty large equestrian community. In the late 70s, my grandparents bought a house on the top of a small hill with a good amount of property. My dad and my uncle each built houses below it, which left a large open space for us kids to play. In the 80s, my dad and grandfather built a barn and corral and we had horses, which we rode backwards, and for a short time, a small pet goat.
Sweet Pea was a cute little thing.
But she was also a giant pain in the ass.
That darn goat was like an escape artist. No matter how often her pen was turned into Fort Knox, Sweet Pea could find a way out.
When we were all outside playing, hosting parties or sleepovers, it was fun to have Sweet Pea in the mix. She loved her family and often showed it by rubbing up against us for cuddles. But, if she didn’t get the attention she felt she deserved, she’d let you know by eating a hole in your shirt.
And being that she was a social butterfly, if she didn’t get invited to a party, she’d make her escape and take a walk up the hill to visit some of our neighbors. She was quite fond of one neighbor’s rose garden. So fond that we once got a call from the irate neighbor informing us that if we didn’t get the goat off her property, we’d be sorry…
Having a pet goat is fine in theory, but as we were spending less time with the horses and more time in sports, dance, etc, the family decided it was time for Sweet Pea to find a new home before the neighbor lost her marbles! Thankfully, it wasn’t too hard to find a family (from our church even!) who would offer Sweet Pea a new home.
Time passed and Sweet Pea began to fade into old memories. We didn’t miss the goofy goat, but every once in a while, someone would reference her…mostly in annoyance or with a funny story.
One day, my cousin and mom were heading to the car after church (this story has been told so much that I feel like I was there!), when they came across the lady who gave Sweet Pea a new home. My mother excitedly caught up with her and asked how Sweet Pea was and the lady smiled and said, “SWEET PEA WAS DELICIOUS!”
As my cousin tells is, my mom’s face just about melted straight off.
“What do you mean?” she stuttered.
“We had a bar-b-que and Sweet Pea was just great.”
At that point, there were no more questions, just a quick scuffling off to the car.
Yes, we gave our pet goat to some people and they ate her – THEY FREAKING ATE HER.
And that’s the story of Sweet Pea, our tasty pet goat.







Oh. My. Goodness. My husband had two goats, and they joked about turning them into pepperoni, but I’ve never heard that anyone actually ate either one. Yikes!
Cracking up! Girl, you know how to tell a story.
Fantastic. Simply fantastic.
Bwahahahahaaha!!! That’s terrible! And hysterically funny.
Poor goat…
Side note: Sweet Pea is what I call my daughter!! Ha!
*Sweet Pea had a tumor too…hope they didn’t eat that!
I happened to be in the middle of eating my lunch when I just read Missie’s comment. HURL!
Poor Sweet Pea.
I’m trying to laugh quietly because I have a sleeping baby on my lap but JJ!!!! THEY ATE HER.
I’m dying.
(I’m also envious of your hillside home and all the cousins. But that’s another story.)
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
I just snorted. Then got sad.
If that was my goat, I’d punch them in the face!