Old guy, old Plymouth 4-door sedan, rural road near the Oregon coast. All three goats were in the back seat, seemed to be having a great time.

I stopped at a State Park to relieve myself, and when I came out the Plymouth was parked next to my car. The old guy had one of the goats on a leash and was putting it into the front seat.

As I watched the process, he turned to me and said, "They're just like kids! Get three of 'em together and they'll fight!"

He shut the door, walked 'round the car, got in and drove off.

I passed him again just a bit later, and all three goats were looking out their own window. I waved, the fellow waved back and we went our own ways.

And I have a memory that has stuck with me for 46 years. Have always treasured that experience.

(By the way, a lot of family therapy focusses on triads. Often Mom and Dad will fight by picking on or showing preference for one of the kids. And vice versa.)

Arf