Billy Goat and the Cubs

I ain’t afraid of no goat! Fly the W!

witchlike

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My owner, a gentleman by the name of Mr. William Sianis, was a kind enough soul, albeit an opportunist. Never one to miss the spotlight, he was flamboyant and prone to anger. He valued me above all else, for I was a novelty, a curiosity and of course a money maker.

“A goat?” Mr. Sianis would say. “A goat gives milk. A goat gives cheese. A goat is a friend!  What is not to like in a goat?”

He was in fact so fond of me that he named his establishment after my species: The Billy Goat Tavern. It was quite a catchy name and drew in much business, especially since he often propped me upon a bar stool and fed me beer.

curse-of-the-billy-goat

In those days, you see, we had no such organizations as PETA nor the ASPCA. Animals were mere servants to humankind. If occasionally we rebelled, who could…

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