My last two posts were fueled by natural bitchiness. This one won’t be, I swear. (Not making promises about the next post, though.)
While many people are traveling far and away again for ‘Murica Day weekend, I gotta stay home because I have work later today. But, for once in…I forgot how many years, I rest on July 4th. And that’s a good thing because maybe then I can revisit a hidden local gem I discovered last week. I’d say it’s a brothel deep in the Oakland hills where all the ladies look like a 90s version of Carmen Electra, but it’s actually a field of goats. (No, that’s not code word for a brothel.)
I do mobile massage and I travel around the East Bay Area for work. You’d think I’d be fed up with driving after my grocery delivery temp job from last year, but I actually like driving for work. (Until I encounter those idiot drivers who don’t signal/cut you off/drive so damn slow, etc.) Anyway, one of my clients from last week lives in Chabot Park, and after their appointment, I explored their neighborhood a bit. An unexpected turn onto a dead-end road led me to this land of billys, nannys, and kids. It’s been ages since I got to see some goats up close, so this was all fascinating for me!
I would’ve pet that critter, but there was this obstacle.
I tested that electric fence by tapping a tall piece of hay on it. I didn’t get shocked but the hay broke off.
Also, I honestly thought this was some kind of goat farm, and then my uneducated ass learned a bit on goat grazing programs.
This dog was breaking the rules! Going around with no leash and all! Actually, that pup played guard to the goats.
Those kids ain’t right. They were butting heads!
Those lucky goats get to dine, combat fires, and reside with a view. (Look very closely to the left and you can see the Golden Gate Bridge!)
All that was missing from this little trip was a baby’s bottle full of milk.