Before you go calling PETA, hear me out… I’m pretty sure Jimmy (my goat…that’s his name) has a cold. A cold front weather system has swept in to Middle Tennessee, and since then, poor sweet Jimmy has taken to sneezing.

Whether you’re American or Irish, Southern or Mid-Western, everyone knows that the best cure for a cold is whiskey…so I gave him a shot of Jack.

No, he didn’t die…in fact, he went bananas. It took about 10 minutes, but dude lost his mind.

I walked past the window and noticed him standing in the middle of the yard (that’s not where I left him… crap). So I go out and he approaches me, tail wagging, licking his lips (he probably wanted some more). I reach out to grab him and he takes off running.

He runs to the tree and then runs back to me and then around the house and then back to me; he runs to the dogs and then jumps on a pile of logs (true story… I’m not trying to be Dr. Seuss, it’s just what happened)….at this point I was certain that he was drunk and I was doubtful that I’d catch him, so I went back in the house.

Another 10 minutes passes and my husband comes home and tells me that my goat is loose (which of course I already knew). He goes back out and then comes in 5 minutes later saying that Jimmy has run across the street…smh, oh drunk Jimmy!

At this point it’s dark outside and I’m figuring that the little guy just needs to run it off, but my husband was determined to catch him. I don’t know how, but he managed to wrangle him into the pig pen.

It was at this time that I took the opportunity to text my neighbor, “Hey, if you hear the goat screaming tonight it’s because he’s getting electrocuted…he’s in the pig pen and the fence is hot.”

Whiskey glazed fried goat…just another reason why I’m Not Your Average