Death by Billy the Kid

Please (Don't) Feed Us


My earliest childhood memory was a traumatic one, which is probably why I remembered it at such an early age. My family went to a petting zoo. Big deal, right? Every kid goes to the petting zoo and it’s generally fun, but for me it was traumatic.

The zoo had feed dispensers and for a quarter people could get a paper cone filled with food for the goats. Having become accustomed to this routine, the goats were aggressive in their attempts to get food from visitors.

Goats swarmed around us as soon as we entered the pen. I was in the stroller at goat level, surrounded by goats eager to see what food I have. Mom and Dad were apparently paying attention to Jay and Kelly or watching the goats so I was defenseless when this goat, which was bigger than I was at the time, came right up to me and chomped off the large manufacturer’s tag (Do not remove under penalty of law, right?) IN ONE BITE! I put up a fuss, but I think my parents found it amusing. Then, the goat bit my dress. I screamed bloody murder because I assumed the goat was going to eat me the way he had just eaten the stroller tag.


Death by Billy the Kid


I’ve been terrified of petting zoos all my life. Even as an adult, when I took my young nephews to the petting zoo, I stayed outside the fence and watched while they played.

I know you’re either laughing or shaking your head at my poor traumatic childhood, but what can I say? Don’t feed the wildlife. It will escalate until they eat you. No KID-ing!


Petting Zoo Nightmares

Hungry Little Billy Goat