The Cowboy and his Elephant by Malcolm MacPherson

much what they did together, Bob thought. They were together as constant friends.
    Sometimes Michelle took her “friendship” a step too far, however, and at those times Amy corrected her. She had saved food for the mouse, but the mouse’s appetite was nothing compared to a goat’s. Michelle ate cans and chewed on rubber mats and assorted junk from the scrap bin. Bob always set out a big bucket of hay and oats for Amy, from which she ate through the day, whenever she was hungry. The constant presence of food was a temptation that Michelle could not resist. She viewed all food as
her
food, without noticing that Amy did not seem to like sharing.
    With Amy standing at the far end of the paddock, Michelle wandered toward the barn and the bucket of food and started to eat, looking up from time to time to see where Amy was standing. Amy took notice and walked across the paddock to the stall. She nudged Michelle awayfrom the bucket and, with her trunk firmly around her waist, she led her out the stall door and into the paddock.
    “Michelle knew she was being asked to leave, and she scooted,” said Bob, who watched with fascination.
    Amy then returned to her stall. She shut the bottom door with her trunk to keep Michelle out, and ate her dinner in peace.
     
    A n obstinate billygoat named Larry had arrived at the ranch with Michelle, as part of a two-goat deal that Bob had made. Larry had yellow slit eyes and curly horns. He must have thought that Amy was a punching bag. Right from the start he slammed her sides and shoulders, and butted her incessantly. Amy ran from him, but Larry was fast afoot, and his need to butt superseded any other goat activity. He lived to butt. He stood up on his hind legs and, with the full weight of his body, slammed his horns into Amy. He could not help himself.
    “Larry was a rat,” said Bob.
    A week after Larry arrived, Bob saw him butt Amy. Unlike the other times, though, now she reacted, and her attack nearly took Bob’s breath away. As quickly as he had ever seen an animal move, she hit Larry with her trunk. He left the ground.
    Bob thought, Good for you, Amy! You sure are learning how to take care of business!
    A few days later Bob was walking by Amy’s stall when heheard the grunts of a goat in agony. He looked in and saw that Amy had pinned Larry up against the wall and was pushing him with her head.
    “Ol’ Larry was going, ‘Unnh, unnh, unnh.’ He knew he was about to die. I thought, Oh, nuts! I did not want Amy learning bad habits. I said, ‘No, no, Amy,’ and she backed off. Larry ran out. I never let him
near
her again. To be honest, after that he was a goner, anyway, as far as the ranch was concerned. He was bad news.”
    Tentatively at first, Amy began to explore her new world. She twisted bolts and unscrewed screws, turned handles and unfastened latches. She might have dismantled her stall, leaving it in a state of collapse, if Bob had not tightened down every nut and bolt with a wrench. She wandered, sniffed, and touched out of an enormous natural curiosity, seemingly missing nothing. She explored with her trunk up in the ceiling of her stall. She worked the latches on the doors, broke off doorknobs, and pulled levers. She tested water taps. She “tasted” soaps and cleaners in the tack room, and she “played” with the saddles and bridles. She pulled the windshield wipers off the trucks and tractors and reached into the open windows and turned the steering wheels.
    Her favorite distraction by far, though, was a garden hose, which she had learned to turn on at the tap. She held the nozzle and squirted herself all over, and sprayed Michelle and anyone who happened to come within reach. Bob ranthrough the spray and turned off the water, and Amy stood patiently holding the end of the hose, clearly waiting for him to leave.
    Bob gave his young elephant the freedom to roam the whole ranch. It was time for her world to expand, he believed. He didn’t mind where she went.