More Trauma Stories


Several months back, the CGTF invited people to tell us about their personal Goat Traumas. Below are the most recent submissions to our counsellors. As always, should you like to share your story, please drop an email to [email protected] with a description of the event and any effects the Goat Trauma has had on your life.


From: [email protected]
Date: Wed Sep 29, 2004 11:39:13 PM US/Eastern
To: trauma@goat-trauma
Subject: Popeye, the devil beast

I guess I had been suppressing these memories to a certain degree. After spending a few minutes on your site, the memories came back to me clear as day.

My father's side of the family were what are know as "Pineys", that is they are reclusive people that live in the Pine Barrens of NJ. I lived near my mother's side of the family in a suburb of Philadelphia as far away logistically, and socio-economically, as we could be from my other side of the family. We would visit my Mammy on my Dad's side who had a small farm in the back of the gas station she owned. I remember that my relatives would make me play with the animals when they didn't want to be bothered with me. I'd see the roosters jumping on the back of the hens and biting their necks
and I'd run up and punt them off because I thought they were fighting. They had a goat. A white, one-horned devil beast named "Popeye". I liked Popeye when I first met him, I would take naps curled up with him in the grass. Until the Spring came and Popeye got those urges. He didn't try to hump me or anything like that, he wanted to challenge me like you see those mountain rams do on the Nature channel. He would lower his head and stamp the ground and charge at me. I finally figured out what he was aiming at and I challenged him right back. Just like the ones on TV we were dueling, not for the right to reproduce, but rather, for dominion over the gas station. I was probably out there for about 5 minutes before my parents found me with a bloody lip and nose, still running head-long into Mammy's ramming goat Popeye. I don't think I lost that day. In fact, I think I won. He died a few weeks later. Thanks for the painful memory recollection.

God, I hate that goat.

From: [email protected]
Date: Tue Nov 2, 2004 1:35:00 PM US/Eastern
To: trauma@goat-trauma
Subject: Goat Trauma, the other side of the coin

Dear CGTF,

Thanks for your site. I found it to be very interesting.

To promote diversity though, I wanted to share my opposite childhood experience with goats. My hope is that in the future you will develop programs that will foster healthy relationships and understanding between goats and people rather than promoting a fear of goat attacks. You should see goats not as the problem, but part of the solution. Another suggestion is that perhaps you could try to see things from the goat's perspective. Why is everything always about humans rather than goats? Would this not be a better world if we were a little more goat-oriented? Yes, something to think about.

Anyway, here's my story. You should know that I haven't felt this warm and cozy since this brief three minute experience with a goat. When I was in the second grade, I was one of those types of kids always daydreaming. Always off in my own little world. One day at our school we had a petting zoo so we all were led outside to see the animals. In my typical fashion I was standing by the animals, but not actually petting them...just staring off into space. Unlike other daydreaming sessions though, I started getting this warm sensation. It was so cozy that I could have stood there for hours in complete ecstasy. The feeling was indescribable and like I said, I haven't felt it since. After a few minutes a classmate interrupted me from my reverie though by shrieking, "Jill! Look that goat is peeing on your foot!! Ha..ha..." I looked down to see that a perfect rainbow stream of urine was going directly onto my foot. The best feeling ever, trust me. I didn't have an extra pair of shoes at school and granted after an hour in urine-soaked sneakers it wasn't so pleasant, but that three minutes was heaven and worth the discomfort later. Perhaps you could use my experience and develop some sort of program (after extensive testing first, of course) that helps people see the positive aspects of goat interaction.

Best of luck in your endeavors!

Sincerely, Jill

From: [email protected]
Date: Wed, 3 Nov 2004 11:12:02 -0500
To: trauma@goat-trauma
Subject: my son

my son had his hair chewed by a goat at aabout age 5. Is that possibly the source of his currently chaotic personality? The goat thought his hair was part of the handful of weeds he was feeding it. His hair still looks like a weed 21 years later. At age 26, this goat trauma is still afffecting him and our family in terms of our relationships with goats. Would it be only a coincidence that his first true girlfriend raised goats?(I don;'t think so!) Are there any desensitization tricks we should know to help in his goat trauma?

From: [email protected]
Date: Thu, 4 Nov 2004 10:39:35 -0600
To: trauma@goat-trauma
Subject: Goats on Crack

Awesome website – your strict adherence to the seriousness of the plight of those traumatized by ‘Goats Gone Bad’ should be a guiding light for other websites revealing the seamier side of animal husbandry (the ranching kind, not the Arkansas kind).   
I have another testimonial horror story of a new and frightening goat problem, best described by the infamous Dan (a.k.a. Bungee Dan; a.k.a. Dangerous Dan) as ‘Goats On Crack’.
Bungee Dan has developed a fairly controllable addiction to ginger flavored Altoids, which he offered to share with a co-worker and avid Goatophile, Doug (a.k.a. Goat Boy), who husbands a herd of 20+ goats, the exact number of which vary from day to day due to desertion, reproduction, and the general risks associated with living in the country.
At feeding time that evening, Goat Boy offered a few ginger Altoids to the rowdier members of his herd, and was shocked by their immediate metamorphism into malevolent aggressive creatures bent on devouring the tin in his pocket, the pocket itself, and all body parts in the pocket’s vicinity.  Not one to shy away from the challenge before him, Goat Boy learned to manipulate this Goat Crack to his advantage, enticing his entire herd from one end of the property to the other, complicated by the vexing problem of how to outrun maddened ‘Goats On Crack’.
Recently, a member of his herd fell victim to another risk of living in the country, feral dogs on the road to Cabrito.  As this unfortunate goat lay on the ground braying his last breath, Goat Boy’s good spouse comforted it with a few ginger Altoids, which not surprisingly, completely defocused the goat from it’s plight of splayed innards, causing it to attempt a mad rush for the last remaining ginger Altoids which created a disturbing visual spectacle of unfettered body parts adhering to the ground.
You may wish to pass on this important discovery to other members of the goat management community in the hopes that some day it may save the life, limb, or pocket of another hapless victim of ‘Goats Gone Bad’.

From: [email protected]
Date: Tue, 16 Nov 2004 10:35:42 -0000
To: trauma@goat-trauma

When I was little, we had a goat.  I called her Cassie, but she got stolen when she was very young.  A horrible boy at my work told me she never got stolen but that my Mum just cooked a goat stew for us all.  The thought was very traumatic.  But I don't believe it, I still have hope, Cassie is still out there somewhere, tied to some pikeys trailer with a bit of rope.
I was very traumatised by a New Forest Pony when I was 5 years old.  Evil midget horse thing. It bit me really bad when I was on a school trip.  I am now terrified of ponies. Does your charity cover such traumas?

From: [email protected]
Date: Thu, 18 Nov 2004 20:35:46 -0800
To: trauma@goat-trauma

I feel so fortunate to have finally found you.  My family doesn't understand; they think I'm crazy, but my therapist believes me and together (she and I are now lesbian lovers)we are going to bring suit against my goat-loving family who performed heinous acts upon me when I was a small innocent chid.  These repressed memories only surfaced after I started therapy and my counselor (now my girlfriend) suggested that something awful must have happened to me, when I dissociated (had an out of body experience)after trying to purchase a bottle of woolite at the local "Food Barn".  Only with her supportive and empathic help, could I begin to retrieve those awful memories of the ritual abuse suffered by me.  Through deep hypnosis and encouragement we embarked on a journey of memory recovery and with my therapist's unwavering support (we live together now)we were able to reconstruct the multiple episodes of abuse inflicted upon me by my goat worshipping family.  You'll be happy to hear that I only have 18 personalities remaining, the rest have been successfully integrated through therapy.  I am now able to once again wear wool sweaters and consume goat cheese without experiencing flashbacks and intrusive memories.  Of course I have nothing to do with my abusive family anymore and I hope that after the trial, my parents get put in prison for what they did.  As for the goats, well, it turns out most of the perpetrators were victims themselves of alien abduction -- and it serves them right.  I'm sure there are countless other victims (like me) out there.  Your web site gave me the courage to come forward and expose this horrifying abuse.  A cautionary word to anyone out there suffering from unexplained panic, depression, allergies (especially to wool) or any other disturbing symptoms (such as nightmares, loss of memory, angry, rage attacks, drug abuse, nicotine addiction, etc., you too were probably victimized as a young child.  Don't be ashamed to get help from a competent counselor who can help you to retrieve your memories of goatanic ritual abuse.  Have courage and heal.  God Bless.

From: [email protected]
Date: Fri, 3 Dec 2004 14:00:08 -0800 (PST)
To: trauma@goat-trauma
Subject: My goat problems

I have recently found your site, and found it quite useful.  Thus, I would like to tell you my problem:
When I was about 7, my parents took me to my uncle's farm.  I was so facinated by all the animals they had, but the goats caught my eye the most.  They had a goat running around (lose) and it looked angry, once I saw the sight of its horns, i got petrafied.  I couldnt find my mom, aunt, or uncle anywhere!!  I ran for the barn, but i tripped.  I laid there, but I must of passed out from all the action, because I woke up in the hospital.  My Uncle told me that the goat charged so hard, it took 4 fingers off my right hand.  I will never be the same, so to this day I watch my backs around a farm.....You never know.
Is there any way you could help me get over my fear of them?

From: [email protected]
Date: Tue Dec 7, 2004 2:23:10 PM US/Eastern
To: trauma@goat-trauma
Subject: Thank You

This is just what I have needed to confirm the feelings I have been growing
up with. My story is a little different. I was not a victim of a petting
zoo - I was victimized by my own pet goat when I was 8 years old. It all
began one day when I took my pet goat to show and tell. As I was patiently
awaiting my class to come out to the playground my goat decided to bolt.
Fearing that if my goat got loose I would never see her again I held on.
Not a wise choice on an asphalt playground. Needless to say, I was not a
pretty site when the class came out. Both knees were ripped in my pants and
my knees were bleeding. I had small pieces of rock lodged in my forehead..
Still to this day, when I run into classmates they laugh and tease me about
bringing my goat to school. Your web site has helped me to realize that I
am not alone. Thank You!!

From: [email protected]
Date: Wed, 15 Dec 2004 15:10:29 EST
To: trauma@goat-trauma
Subject: horrid life-altering experience

To whom it may concern:
First, I'd like to thank the creators of your wonderful website.  I've been searching for an outlet for my pain for nearly 20 years.  I finally feel that I am not alone in this world; I was not singled out to be persecuted by goats. 
My struggle with the goats began when I was about three years old.  I was at a deer park (sort of like a deer petting zoo) in Wisconsin Dells.  For an exorbitant fee you can purchase an ice cream cone filled with deer food to feed to the deer.  Being the ideal consumers, that's exactly what my parents did.  I remember the day distinctly.  It was about 65 degrees out; I was wearing my favorite Popeye T-shirt and blue corduroys.  A wonderful setting for a day at the park (refer to "Perfect Day" by Lou Reed for better prose describing fun-time at the zoo). 
So there I was, holding the cone filled with feed, anxiously waiting for the deer to come.  No deer came.  I tossed a few pieces of the food to the ground, hoping the deer could hear for miles (like the birds do in Home Alone 2).  Something heard the food, but it wasn't the deer.  It was a st st st st st st st st stampede of goats (pardon the st st st stutter as it's caused by the goats).  Needless to say, I was pummeled to the ground, and viciously accosted.  My favorite shirt was torn.  The goat bit me from head to toe, searching for more deer food.  They licked me too.  Their tongues smelled like a spinach milkshake made with rotten milk.  I was devastated.  I smelled like a goat.  My shirt was ruined.  And now the deer would have to endure a famine. 
The devastation still comes to the fore every time I'm in public.  There's the st st st stutter, which won't go away.  And there's the smell.  All of my friends make fun of me because I smell like a goat.  I shower at least once a week, and yet the smell lingers.  About once a week the smell goes away for a couple of days, but it inevitably returns.  I smell like a goat.  That makes me sad. 
I advise all that read this to avoid goats as you would the aforementioned rotten milkshake.  I am living (and smelling) proof that a st st st st st st stampede of goats can change your life.  And never for the better.  Farewell, and God speed.

From: [email protected]
Date: Thu, 16 Dec 2004 09:50:18 -0600
To: trauma@goat-trauma
Subject: Goat Trauma

I clicked on the link to your website and when your page came up I was shocked to see a rendering of BILLY, the goat that attacked my mother, as I a young child watched helplessly from my goat proof carriage, sipping all the while on my bottle of goat's milk. I am so scared of the picture on your website that I have been helpless to do anything at all since the page opened.  I think that if I move BILLY is going to jump out of the screen and chew on my chair and generally just be obnoxious and smell bad. What can I do? I hope that one of your professional goat trauma specialists can help. Am I suffering from Goatphobia or is this something more rare?  I feel as though I must have seen a goat...I mean ghost!!

From: [email protected]
Date: Thu Dec 16, 2004 7:32:13 PM US/Eastern
To: trauma@goat-trauma
Subject: goat trauma testimony

After several weeks of doubting my sanity, I finally have relief. The goats really are as evil and calculating as I suspected. My story took place on a farm outside Canby, Oregon. It was fall and I was with three small children who had gone to ride the hayrides and see the infamous "tree-climbing goats." I audibly gasped when I walked into the complex at the sight of four goats on platforms above the crowds. What was billed as "family entertainment" was actually a covert operation I am sure orchestrated by these animals.I did walk further towards the fence but was very cautious. As I approached the machine that asked for money to feed the goats (I did not, I need all my fingers to play the piano) I could hardly believe what I saw next. The sweet, innocent 4 year-old girl that I had come with fell forward landing on her face! I am SURE that the goat so innocently standing at the fenceside begging for food tripped her. I was incensed!! I rushed to her side, picked her up and dried her (many) tears and wiped her eyes. The stinging from the mud on my handswent away after several minutes but I could not help but be greatly disturbed that such vicious creatures were allowed to roam freely so near innocent children. I have had several nightmares about this event--wondering if there was something I could have done differently to spare this poor child such agony. When I finally got the courage to talk with her, to help her through, she looked up at me with her big brown eyes and said, "what goat?" That's when I knew the damage had been done--RGT had been inflicted. Repressed Goat Trauma is a serious problem that nobody wants to address. Thank you, Goat-Trauma for tackling this problem head-on. May your network succeed as you help many. Some people may think this is a joke but I'm not Kid-ding. It's a baaaaaaaaaad situation to be in.

From: [email protected]
Date: Tue Dec 21, 2004 3:51:31 PM US/Eastern
To: trauma@goat-trauma
Subject: petting zoo trauma

This is a story about a llama which kind of looks like a long legged goat. I was forced to volunteer at a petting zoo when I was about 10 years old. I would scoop up the poop with the little crap crane, and hand out those bags of pet zoo pellets to unsuspecting children so they could feed the little bastards. Oh, and while I had to do this volunteer work I had to wear this zebra striped vest. Anyway one day the llama decided he was going to take a liking to the two legged zebra that was always picking up his poop so the llama started chasing me across the pen spitting on me and biting my hair. When he got me to slow down he threw his legs over my shoulders and started mounting me right in front of the Saturday petting zoo crowd. With the help of my brother who also worked there I was able to fight the llama off. Now 28 years later I live next to a farm that has 2 llamas and every time we drive by my wife says "Don't look now but that llama is eyeballing you"..

(Interestingly, the CGTF receives a fair number of emails about llama traumas. We have a series of experiments with llamas and children scheduled for the coming months to explore the trauma potential of llamas.)

From: [email protected]
Date: Wed, 5 Jan 2005 08:17:15 -0600
To: trauma@goat-trauma
Subject: Trauma story

I'm Nate. I'm 39 now. My parents have always had goats. I grew up with them. Your web site is hilarious! I understand!
Goats will destoy cars, and eat the seats on 4-wheelers!
My trauma story: When I was a kid, mom had to get us ready to go, when we went places. I have 2 brothers. Mom used to complain of my "Cow lick". It was hard to tame. In fact, she complained so much, I finally resolved to get to the bottom of it. It turns out that in fact a GOAT licked me, as a baby, due to improper supervision of me as a baby!
I now have to tolerate this horible GOAT lick, and it is because goats are like this.
Hopefully you can warn others of this danger.
My big ugly GOAT lick has cost me mucho $ in hair tonics. It has cost me girlfriends. It even got me caught smoking! I used to buy cigarettes at a local store. When caught, mom took me there, and the lady at the store ID'd me by that so called 'cow lick'! I don't smoke now, due to the trauma of the GOAT lick!
It has traumatized me for life.

From: [email protected]
Date: Fri Jan 21, 2005 10:11:41 AM US/Eastern
To: tour@goat-trauma
Subject: I'M A VICTIM!

Just last week i happened upon your site, i was astonished to find that i am not the only person to be the victim of a goat attack! When i was a child a herd of wild bloodthirsty goats charged through our home, we had no idea what was happening, tiny furry horned monstrosities tore through our home eating all in their path. My mother and i where the only survivors and we did this by hanging from the celing fan. When the herd passed all that they left where a few scraps of wood, and blood stains on the foundation of our home. We found a few bones and a tooth that was dna tested and they where that of my sister, there was nothing to be found of my father. Ever since i have taken a role as vigilante bounty hunter and goat exterminator. The goats had driven me to a state of dependace upon drugs and alchohol. I have murdered over 6,000 goats both large and pigmy and have a horn from each. Since my discovery of your foundation i have been greatly relieved to find that many people have also experienced such tradgedies. I can never thank you enough, if it weren't for you i'd still be a drunk slaughtering goats with an assault rifle across the country.

From: [email protected]
Date: Tue, 25 Jan 2005 14:00:37 EST
To: trauma@goat-trauma
Subject: Related Goat Trauma

I was forwarded your link by a concerned friend and thought I would send an email.  First, I am not a child, I am a 30 year old adult who would like to remain anonymous, and secondly, my trauma is not goat related, but sheep related.  A few years back I had a rather unfortunate event with a sheep at the Minnesota State Fair at the sheep barn.  My friend and I were visiting the sheep barn on a pleasantly sunny warm day Enjoying our Pronto Pups in peace, when rather unexpectedly a sheep wearing a covered mask (I assume to protect his identity) stuck his head up out of the crowd of docile fellow animals and aggressively hurled sheep-like profanities at me and then proceeded to "expose" his genitalia at me, swinging his "manhood" to and fro as if it were a medieval mace!  I'm so thankful my friend was there to take me to safety as if she hadn't surly there would've been a violent assault on myself from this rather angry animal.  Ever since this incident I have had sleepless nights.  The recurring nightmare of KKK affiliated farm animals is to much to bear.  Why must we as peaceful law abiding humans be terrorized by these type of actions?  What can I do to overcome these violations I have suffered?  Please help!
    -Baaaaah-dly Frightened.




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