09/10/2026
THE EMERGENCY AT CREEK SECTOR as reported by Amos, Head of Goat Security
I knew we had trouble before Pamela did.
This is not unusual.
Pamela is a capable woman and generally does a satisfactory job around
the ranch, but she has certain limitations. For one thing, she cannot
smell worth a hoot. For another, she was in the house.
I was conducting the morning security inspection when I detected an
emergency at Creek Sector. One of the Large White Personnel had gotten
herself into the water and was not conducting herself like a normal
goat.
I issued the Emergency Pamela Summons.
WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!
There are several barks in my professional vocabulary. There is Stranger Danger.
There is Goats Where Goats Are Not Supposed to Be. There is Something Moved in the Brush and I Am Investigating. And there is
PAMELA, GET OUT HERE NOW.
I used the last one.
It worked.
Pamela appeared wearing what I believe humans call Emergency
Creek-Rescue Clothing. It was very thin and did not appear particularly
well suited to the assignment.
She went down the bank.
I attempted to accompany her, but at this point Ranch Management
encountered a serious equipment failure.
BZZZT.
I stopped.
The goat was in trouble.
I advanced.
BZZZT.
I reconsidered.
I advanced again.
BZZZT!
There are times in the life of a Head of Goat Security when duty
requires sacrifice. There are also times when an invisible fence makes a
persuasive counterargument.
I maintained command from the nearest authorized position.
Pamela got into the creek. The water was deep. The bank was slick. The goat was approximately the size of a small buffalo and had somehow gotten herself underneath the board that sensible goats walk across
instead of underneath.
This is why goats require supervision.
Pamela pulled. The goat struggled. Pamela rested. Then she pulled some
more.
I barked encouragement and attempted several times to explain that I was
available for immediate deployment if someone would kindly turn off the electricity.
Eventually Pamela got the goat over the board and onto the bank.
This took a long time.
I would have done it faster, but I have no thumbs.
Once Pamela had moved the goat outside the Restricted Electrical Zone, I
was finally permitted to inspect the casualty.
I smelled her from one end to the other.
Wet.
Goat.
Alive.
I licked her thoroughly to make certain.
Then I lay down between the goat and Pamela's feet and put my head on
the ground.
The situation was under control.
The goat was alive.
Pamela was alive.
I was alive, although parts of me had recently been informed rather
strongly about property boundaries.
I remained on duty until the goat was safely returned to the lower paddock.
I understand there has been some discussion of a medal.
This is appropriate.
I would also accept steak.
AMOS Head of Goat Security Cree
