The Goat

There was a goat up our road tied to a bush with a short piece of line. He had one ear up and one down and we liked him, thought he was funny. He got to know us so we could pet him, feel his rough goat coat and look at his strange eyes with rectangular pupils that seem to know something we don't. Something - what is it?
Something that comes from eating Tan - tan all day, a lant that would make a mortal mammal lose hair, but not the wizened goat, the good, strong, and true goat. And then he disapeared, broke his tether and hoofed it down into the brambles.
We never saw him again. He ate our apples and now he's gone. God speed you little goat, may your rectangle pupils look on the world with joy.