Bozo will soon be 6 years old. Kindergarten is super. The janitor is not so super. Auntie Jožica is super. Getting up in the morning is not so super. But Ata and Mama have to go to work, and he will soon go to school. So there is no alternative—kindergarten.
Luckily, Bozo's home on the farm is a world of its own. There live Mama, Ata, Bozo, Ruby, and Ferdo. Ruby the big black flying dog and Ferdo the stinking goat. Fear and trembling of everybody around. If somebody is not to his liking, Ferdo first looks. He has such shiny blue-gray eyes. He tilts his head a little to the side. Bozo has read that those animals that run away from danger have eyes on the sides of their heads. For example a horse, and a cow, and a bull, and a doe, and a she-goat and a billy goat. Those animals that hunt have them in front. For example Ruby. And a fox. And a cat.
Only he doesn't quite understand why Ferdo has eyes on the side. That is not completely clear to Ferdo either. That's why he always looks everything over by tilting his head a little. So he looks like a hunter, not like prey. Because Ferdo ain't prey. Whoever thinks Ferdo is prey is mighty wrong. Yes, neighbor Luka found that out. The other day he climbed over the electric fence and made fun of Ferdo. Ferdo nothing. He looks. Tilts his head. Luka is waving a red handkerchief. Like a toreador. But Ferdo ain't no bull.
Besides, bulls don't even see the color red anyway, they just notice the fluttering cloth. But that handkerchief doesn't bother Ferdo. That snot-nosed brat bothers him. When he is yelling. And Bozo doesn't like him either. And Ferdo waits. Luka is closer and closer. And then. Then Ferdo figures: close enough. And starts. Lowers his horns and into a run. Luka also ... into a run. Toward the electric fence. Two more meters. One more meter. Just a little ... and Luka flies. Ferdo got him. And with his mighty forehead he jabbed him in ... I am not allowed to write it, but you can think it. Luka Superman, or better Luka Goat-Kicked.
Then comes the crying and running to his daddy. And he says to him: why are you going into the goat's pasture? Be happy he didn't bust you up.
Yes, now it is like that. But it was not always like that.
When Bozo was little, about three years old, and got the flying dog Ruby, Ferdo was also born. Ferdo's mother was the goat Belka. What do you think, why was she called that? Because she was a little white and a little black, of course. What did you think? Your name also is not Marjetica because you have a pretty white-yellow head, but because your mama thinks you bloom like a daisy. And Belka was pretty poorly after giving birth. She was no longer the youngest, and she could not take care of Ferdo.
Mama has a big heart. As big as 2 soccer stadiums in Maribor. Ata once took Bozo to watch a match. Bozo doesn't remember who won, but he remembers that everybody stood up and shouted: referee ain't got no ... I will not write it, but it rhymes with "dragon." Well, let's say, referee ain't got no dragon. But a stadium is nothing compared to Mama's heart. Yes, of course she is always yelling. Something is always wrong. But when it is needed, she takes Ruby home. And comforts Bozo. And bakes potica and carries it to school for everybody. Then she yells a little again. But Bozo thinks that is more from habit.
And when Mama saw the poor little kid goat, curled up in the corner, and when he stood up, was trembling, and didn't get milk, she said: Eh. She went into the house, rummaged among the dishes and pulled out Bozo's bottle. Yes yes, I know, we all remember that once, when he was 2, Bozo said—bottle bottle—and Mama said that Belka had knocked it over and broken it. Of course that wasn't true, but how would it look if Bozo dragged a bottle behind him around the world until he was eighteen. It has to end sometime. But the bottle was so super, with a nipple and everything, and Mama put it away. Like mamas know how. Quickly she warmed a little goat's milk, from Šekica (and don't ask me why she is named that if she is all white), and poured it into the bottle. She lifted the little kid goat's head and pushed the nipple into his mouth.
How he pulled. Ata would say he sucked like a fire truck tanker. He closed his eyes, folded his ears against his head and pulled, pulled, pulled. And bleated. So throaty, soft. Then he curled back onto the straw, and fell asleep. And so every day. Belka recovered, but after a long time. And the little goat grew and grew.
Bozo, of course, was the first one who wanted to give the little goat the bottle. Mama resisted a little, because she thought Bozo would quickly tip the bottle but ... he didn't. Surprisingly. He only said: what luck that Belka didn't smash the bottle.
And suddenly Mama didn't even need to bottle-feed the little goat anymore. Bozo did it himself.
One Sunday Bozo comes from the stable and says that Ferdinand drank everything. And Mama says: who is Ferdinand? Who else, the goat, says Bozo. And what kind of Ferdinand now, says Mama. Bozo had that morning watched a cartoon about Ferdinand the bull. And he says to Mama: that bull is nothing compared to my Ferdinand. And very soon he was no longer such a fancy Ferdinand, but plain homey Ferdo. Where would we get with a goat named Ferdinand? It's a total tongue-twister. But if Ferdo gets lost, then Bozo can yell at the top of his lungs: Ferdo, Ferdoooooo, Ferdoooo, where you at, you goat?
Ferdo is a very fast goat. If needed. For example, if Luka comes. Or if he sees that some she-goat is forcing her way into the good grass. Or God forbid some crow. Now, crows—he really has a thing against them. A crow lands, and Ferdo is right there. But crows are smart. A person would say they are teasing Ferdo. And Bozo never knows whether Ferdo lets himself be teased, or Ferdo is a fool, or Ferdo is smart and just practicing his sprints. As a reward, he chases away the crows.
And the more Bozo thinks, the more he is sure that he knows the answer. The other day he heard that in horse stables they always have a goat around. Because goat poop is a bit disinfectant. Just go watch goats, how they choose food. A little here, a little there, herb here, herb there. Ata says: whoever wants to learn cussing must buy himself a goat, because a goat goes where it does damage. And because during a fire a goat knows how to escape. Because a goat is ... smart.
Ferdo is Ferdo, and Ferdo knows. Just ask Luka.