Yesterday, real early before the BOC crash, Mr. John and myself had a converstation going on about my pug (Maggie) having gas. Ofcourse, Mr. John said I most likely was giving her too much beer. Well, sir, she does not drink beer and thus, you need to rethink you Dx of her problem. As usual, when Mr. John mentions something, it alway leads me to something that happen in my past. Sometime in the mid 70's a buddy gave me a goat (a whether, if you'll know what I mean), tan to gold in color. It was about three months old at the time. Well, I lived in a development and one of the restrictions of the development was that you could not have any hogs, chickens, goats, etc. Since I owned both adjacent lots, which were wooded and full of honeyscukle vines, I figure no one would see him and everything would be okay. Forgot to mention that I named the goat Billy, orginal isn't it? Some how or another a neighbor that lived about one mile away heard about the goat being on my property and called the law on me. The fine deputy sheriff came out with his proper papers and informed me that a complaint had been filed and that I had 24 or 48 hours to removed the goat from my property. Before he left, he ask to see Billy and I escourted him into the woods and introduce him to Billy. He was real impressed with Billy and wanted to know where I got him and from whom. He then ask for the papers back that he had given me and told me to do a better job of hiding Billy or the next time he would have to enforce the law. Billy never liked to drink water, like somebody else we know, and I started to give him a sip or two of beer everyday and then a small can in his water bowl everyday and at the end a big tall one. Prior to getting Billy, I had acquired an old GMC truck, the one with the big steering wheel and Billy loved to ride to different places with me in my old farm truck. I would take him around to nurseries and pre-school places and let the kids pet him. It got so popular that one public school invited me to bring Billy for the kids to see and pet. The next year I decided to run for County Commissioner and when the community had an outdoor event, here would come Mac and Billy in the old GMC truck. Once I open the door and let Billy out, the crowd would gather around us and we would have a good time. But, all of this back fired on me. One of the local papers was of the opinion that Billy was a better candidate than I. That ended my political career, then and thar. At the end of that year, I came home one day from work, got Billy's tall one out of the frig. and walked over to my adjacent lot and lo and behold no Billy. I looked around a bit and there were the remains of Billy. I had Billy on a chain and a pack of dogs came through and did a number on him. I felt bad, real bad for a time, but I probably gave Billy a better life than he would of had with a bunch of other goats and I know he made a difference in my life and a lot of kids and others.