Mrs. Kravitz e-mailed me saying one of the vets at the Vet Teaching Hospital where she works has a son who needs some goats for a film.
Guess the kid is in a film school in San Francisco... he must be home for the summer and he's making a "short western". He was desperate to find someone with goats.
It's all about promote the goat, baby.
I gave him a call and I'm gonna take 2 does up to Pingree Park in the canyon Saturday afternoon. The kid was telling me that I could stay on set as long as I liked and he'd discussed it with the rest of the "crew" that the goat handler could be there as long as they wanted. He said it like it was a pretty big privilege.
I didn't say anything but I was thinking more along the lines of - ummmm, how long is this gonna take so I can get home and on with my day?
How bad can it be?
I'll take a nice drive up the canyon (wait - 2 goats screaming, peeing and pooping in my car.... maybe not such a nice drive). I'll bring my little dog, Toe... a book... an iPod.
Tho a co-worker looked at me and said, "Wait. You are taking 2 goats up into the mountains to meet a guy you don't know and have never met?"
Hmmmm. It does sorta have the makings of a hillbilly gathering gone a little wrong dontcha think?