(mis)adventures Of A Bachelor Boy (Rendezvous with a goat)

I have always been the adventurous type in my family. Mother liked animals, dad tolerated them while elder brother abhorred them. I was the only exception: I loved animals whole-heartedly. Consequently, frogs, squirrels, cats, dogs and pigeons (to name a few species from the animal kingdom) have at some point of time have been residents in my house.I do remember mother's scream, brother's petrified looks and dad's good whipping, when I (as a nine-year-old then), proudly presented, during dinnertime, a baby fruit bat as my pet. I had found the fellow sprawled on the floor and had decided to taken him in, out of sympathy. But I had to release him immediately owing to intense opposition from the rest of my folks.Nevertheless, such minor setbacks failed to deter me from attempting to befriend any stray animal in my sight. The result is that I have been forced to make annual trips to our family doctor for anti-rabies shots.One such unfortunate encounter was when I was twelve years old. As I walked home, one evening after school, my sight fell on a goat near a tea stall that was busy munching a wall poster. Compassion swelled in my heart, as i witnessed its pitiable condition of having to eat old posters as a source of nutrition. I immediately made my way to the goat with the hope of dragging the beast to better source of nutrition - a few patches of grass in the area.The goat seemed quite unimpressed as I had interrupted his supper. I dropped my schoolbag and attempted to have a go at it. Twice it successfully managed to dodge my eager hands. Repeated attempts to capture the goat too was futile as it proved to be more agile than me.In my childish enthusiasm i had to recall a golden rule: hunger and anger can be a deadly combination in a beast. But when the goat lowered its forehead, fear gave wings to my feet.But before I could make an effective run, the horns came in contact. I remember being lifted off the ground and landing, with a painful thud, sprawled and face-first, on the asphalt.The goat proceeded to return to its primary function, after having given vent to its fury. I turned round to find a crowd gathering around me. The embarrassment of having ?bitten the dust? in public far outweighed the pain that I had begun to experience as I attempted to sit upright.The second encounter was with a milch cow, a few years later. This time around I was luckier, as I fled before I suffered a similar fate. In 27 years of my life, I have suffered several bites, scratches, and undergone subsequent stitches.But I have not changed much: I still am as compassionate towards animals as I was when i was nine. The only little difference being that: i apply caution before approaching a stray beast.