Borderline

There’s an electric fence blocking my way today. It’s not much of a fence; the kind you’d unfold to keep a baby safe. Not hard to collapse and walk over. The sign says ‘animal enclosure’. Sure enough, goats are grazing on the other side. I get the picture but I’m still pissed. Where’s the herdsman, I’d like a word with him. There are too many fences around here already. I have every right to pass through without fear of getting my nuts zapped stepping over another one. I climb to Franceschi where I sit and plan my next move. Should I contact the planning commission, city council or the coastal commission ..? I tromp back down thinking “another fucking ambush on the way to sanctuary ..just when I was starting to feel safe again. I don’t know where the boundaries are anymore but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some son-of-a bitch goat farmer get in my way.” I reach bottom where I run into my neighbors Matt and Richelle. I explain the situation. They tell me not to worry ..it’s a temporary thing. The County rents goats from farms in the Santa Ynez valley. They eat the underbrush from the canyons. They’ll be movin’ on in a day or so. I experience a sudden drop in blood pressure and begin to feel my grip loosening from around the neck of an imaginary goat farmer.