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401 N. 5th Street • Alpine TX 79830
(432)837-5999
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Ling Dong • Carlos Campana
Hours vary or by appointment
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Hand-painted signs and graphics
“A
w Mom,” I pleaded.
N
Bonnie Dale Bratton
Attorney at Law
Alpine, Texas
Family Law, Business Litigation
Personal Injury Litigation
432.837.9201
bonniedalebratton@yahoo.com
24
by Blair Pittman
~ Illustrated by Mark Kneeskern
N
Cenizo
“No way,” she stated. Firmly.
“But he’ll be lonely without
me.”
“Positively, NO. A baby goat
has no place in the car with
people. Besides, he’ll poop
everywhere.”
I countered with, “But can’t
you make him a diaper or
something?”
My mom was a school-
teacher, so I was hoping she
could understand my wish. I
was 7 years old, and the goat
was important to me.
“Well, I guess I could make a
burlap diaper,” she said, finally
relenting.
Mom telephoned Dad let-
ting him know we were about
to leave. My dad, Rex Ivey,
owned the Lajitas Trading Post.
When it came time for me to go
to school the family had decid-
ed that Mom and me would
move to Alpine. We would
make the trip back home as
often as possible.
We loaded up the car for the
weekend drive to Lajitas,
including my now-diapered
goat and everything we would
need if we had to spend the
night on the road. That includ-
ed plenty of water, food and
First Quarter 2010
two spare tires on the back
bumper.
Off we went.
Now, in 1958
the way from
Alpine to Lajitas
was 90 miles of
dirt roads – at
least a four-hour
drive. Not long after we left, it
began to look like rain out to
the west. Sure enough, when
we got to Terlingua Creek, it
was bank-to-bank water and
roaring. So we got ready to
spend the night in the car.
Mama made it clear – she
wasn’t going to sleep with a
goat in the car. She didn’t say it,
but I knew she meant that the
diaper certainly needed chang-
ing by now. It might have been
a stinking goat, but it was my
stinking goat. So the baby goat
was tied to the back bumper for
the night. I slept in the back
seat, and Mom had the front
seat.
In the night, we were waked
up by a hissing noise. It sound-
ed kinda like a big snake. A few
minutes later we heard it again.
We didn’t dare check outside
because we really didn’t want to
know what that hissing was, so
we went back to sleep.
Here came the sun, and
here came Dad driving a road
grader, in high gear. He didn’t
even slow down at the far creek
bank. He just drove that big
thing right across. Of course, it
had gone down some
overnight. Also, my Dad was
the county road commissioner.
He knew we were coming, and
he knew it had rained, so he
pretty well figured where we
would be. His thinking was
right on, as it usually was.
He was all grins as he
braked to a stop beside us.
When he saw my goat tied
behind the car, his grin faded.
He got close to the spares, felt
one, then the other – FLAT,
BOTH OF THEM. The goat
had chewed off both valve
stems. That explained the hiss-
es we had heard.
He and Mama wandered a
little way from me. I heard
some yelling and Mama
explaining about my pet goat.
I heard, “Diaper? For a
goat?”
He hooked up a chain from
the bumper of the car to the
big old road grader. Off we
went, through the water, Mom
steering with the engine turned
off. The car floated a bit, but
that grader kept pulling us. On
the other side, the engine start-
ed, and we followed behind
Dad the 30 or so miles to
Lajitas.
As always, I enjoyed our visit
at home. I got to play with my
Mexican friends, who sure
admired my goat. So did their
fathers.
Finally it was time to leave
for Alpine. I looked and looked
for my goat, but I couldn’t find
him anywhere.
It was years later I learned
about what a delicacy barbe-
cued cabrito is.