A Performing Actress, Three Goats, and One Very Good Tote
- 4 days ago
- 2 min read
Seeing Goats Like an Actress Does
I have this thing for goats. I’m not sure why. They’re not particularly soft, like sheep, or majestic, like horses. Feed them and they might be sweet—or come at you with their horns. And yet, something about them intrigues me. When I stare into their oblong irises, I feel like they know me, even if they're just looking to munch on my bag. A few years ago I went to a goat yoga class in Miami. I did very little exercise because the goats kept coming over to sit on my mat.
As an actress, I like to think I read energy well—and goats, it turns out, are very honest scene partners. Last Saturday there was a 'goats and totes' gathering in Culver City. Any opportunity to scratch their heads is golden. They're so tender, even with their sharp edges and pesky little hooves that can dig into you shoe.
Goat Logic vs. Actress Instinct
My plan was to swim first but after Paco refused to budge from my lap while I was having breakfast, I decided to head directly to the goat extravaganza by Ivy Station at 11am. There were only three goats and they were surrounded by little children. Like the good New Yorker—and clearly a very determined actress—that I am, I maneuvered my way to the front of the first goat and started talking to him. His name was Ripley. He looked directly into my eyes and I was smitten. Everyone was in awe of my prowess at getting Ripley to pay attention to me and tried to do the same. I went on to the next goat, Boris, who was bigger. The handler was giving out pellets so the goats could eat out of our hand but Boris was having none of it. Completely indifferent to my voice and/or charm.
I took to Lilly immediately, a beautiful guernsey goat with a big forehead like mine. Kindred spirits. Alas, she wasn't interested in eating pellets from my hand. I went back to Ripley for some additional love and he looked at me again intently for 30 seconds while I said "who's the most beautiful, wonderful boy?" Maybe I was a goat whisperer in another life.
After 20 minutes, I'd had enough. The ideal scenario would have been to make all the kids and parents go to a corner and play with the goats myself, but alas, that was not to be. I said good bye to the handlers, took my tote and left the venue smiling.
Last night I dreamt I lived on a farm with a dozen goats. Imagination costs nothing.
