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A true story about a very brave little goat

A long, long truck ride.

A tiny goat, only four months old, bumped and rattled all the way from the middle of the country to somewhere she had never been.

Her name wasn't Liberty yet.
She didn't have a name at all.

When the truck stopped, she smelled something scary.

She didn't know exactly what it was.
But her little legs knew.

Run.

And so she ran.

As fast as her four small hooves could carry her, she ran down the street, around a corner, and tucked herself underneath a big truck parked along the road.

She pressed her body against the cold tire and stayed very, very still.

A neighbor had been watching from her window.

She saw the little goat run. She saw her hide.
And she picked up the phone.

"There's a goat out here," she said,
"and I think she needs help."

The call went to a place called The Sanctuary of Hope.

Wayne and Jackie heard the story — a tiny goat, all alone, hiding under a truck.

They looked at each other.

They grabbed their keys.

Four people set out in two cars.

They had a plan.

One car pulled up and pretended to have broken down. The second car pulled alongside, as if stopping to help.

Nobody would notice them.
Nobody would stop them.

At least, that was the plan.

Wayne spotted her first — a little gray shape tucked tight against the tire.

He nodded to Jackie.

Jackie moved quietly.
One step. Two steps. Three.

Then — gentle arms around a very surprised little goat.

Jackie carried her quickly to the truck and set her down on the back seat.

The little goat looked around with big golden eyes.

Soft seats. Warm air. Two humans who were smiling at her.

She took one deep breath.

Safe.

On the ride home, Wayne reached back and let her sniff his hand.

"You're free now," he told her.

And that is how she got her name.

Liberty.

That was seven years ago.

Today, Liberty lives on a big green farm in Rhode Island.
Her home is a cozy yellow school bus called the Goat Coach, where the windows let in the morning sun and the hay smells sweet and clean.

She has a best friend named Holly.
They go everywhere together.

And every single night, when the stars come out and the farm gets quiet, Liberty walks to the very best spot in the whole Goat Coach.

She curls up on Wayne's pillow.

Right where his head should go.

Wayne sleeps somewhere else.
Liberty doesn't mind.

The End

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Liberty the goat is real.
This story really happened.
She really does sleep on Wayne's pillow.

The Sanctuary of Hope — Rhode Islande to a variety of adorable puppies just waiting to find their forever homes. From small breeds to large breeds, we have a pup for everyone. Come visit our shelter and meet your new best friend!

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A true story about the smallest goat with the biggest tricks

When Holly arrived at the Sanctuary of Hope, she was two years old.

She should have been big and strong by now.

But Holly weighed only sixteen pounds.
She was the size of a dog.

Her legs were so thin they looked like they belonged on a little bird.

The veterinarians shook their heads gently.

"She'll need to stay indoors," they said.
"Her bones are very fragile. She may never be able to join the other goats."

Holly looked up at them with steady eyes.
She had no idea what fragile meant.

But indoors wasn't lonely — because someone was already there.

 A big, confident, seventy-five-pound goat named Liberty.

Liberty had been living inside for eight months.
She knew all the best spots. All the softest places.

She looked at Holly.
Holly looked at Liberty.

Friends.
Just like that.

They played together every single day.

They chased each other through the hallway. They bumped heads. They bounced and spun and leaped — though Holly's leaps were very small ones.

Liberty always seemed to know.
When Holly was tired, Liberty slowed down.
When Holly wanted to wrestle, Liberty let her win sometimes.

She never, ever played too rough.

Weeks passed. Then months.

Holly ate well. She played hard. She rested when she needed to, with Liberty always nearby.

The veterinarians came back to check on her.
They looked at her legs. They looked at the scale.
They looked at each other.

"This," one of them said quietly,
"is not what we expected."

Two years after she arrived — the skinny little goat the size of a dog — Holly stepped onto the scale.

Sixty pounds.

She had grown into exactly the goat she was always supposed to be.

The doctors smiled.
Wayne smiled.
Liberty did a little jump, which meant she was smiling too.

Now Holly is eight years old.

She lives on the Goat Coach with Liberty. She sleeps on Wayne's bed. She goes on adventures.

And somewhere along the way, Holly discovered something very important about herself.

She was a genius.

A sneaky, patient, absolutely brilliant genius.

You see, Holly had figured out something about electric fences and dogs.

If she walked up to the fence very slowly…
And poked her nose through the wire very gently…
And just waited…

Curious dogs would come closer.
And closer.
And closer.

Until — ZAP.

One afternoon, while the sanctuary was helping clear the brush at a marina nearby, Holly got to work.

A dog wandered over. Holly poked her nose through the fence. She waited.

ZAP. Yelp.

Then another dog. Then another.

One by one, five dogs learned an important lesson that day.

Holly watched each one with calm, satisfied eyes.

Nobody taught Holly that trick.
She figured it out all by herself.

The same goat who once weighed sixteen pounds.
Whose legs looked like they belonged on a little bird.
Who the doctors weren't sure would ever run and play outside.

Five dogs.
One afternoon.
Zero regrets.

The End

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Holly is real.
The fence is real.
The dogs were fine.
Holly knew that too.

The Sanctuary of Hope — Rhode Island

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