Memories are a very precious thing. They can endow us with the wisdom of our past mistakes, and they give us hope for the future; but memories can also leave ugly disfiguring scars on our past that traumatically affects our personalities for our entire lives. One could say you are nothing more and nothing less than a collection of all your memories. I find this statement insightful as to the consequences of my own memories as a child. To this very day I can remember a single experience that stands out among all others and has shaped my personality for better, and for worse.

            One hot mid summer morning on a cloudless sunny day my father, on an impolitic whim, decided that our family should go to the zoo to have fun and celebrate life in general. Being a six year old boy with all the energy in the world, I started jumping up and down, wild-eyed and screaming with joy in anticipation of seeing animals. It took about six seconds for me to get into the car and six minutes for everyone else, but my dad eventually started up the car, pulled out of the driveway and I was content for about a mile. Once again, the fact that I was a mere child sitting still was not part of my extensively undeveloped vocabulary, and at about the second mile my farther already regretted the trip, and my mother was already dealing with her newly arrived migraine. After some minor threats, deafening music, and plenty of patience, my parents finally got me to the Zoo.

            My parents never needed to tell me we were close; I already knew. Once Papago Mountain had come into view I knew for a fact that we were almost there, I was young and I had not yet had much time to learn the lay of the land, but Papago Mountain was already a brilliant beacon always calling with its reddish tinge and subtle hump. Eventually my parents arrived at the entrance to the mysterious animal world. I gazed in awe at the immense moat swarming with crocodiles, and the massive gates that held out the outer world, but more importantly held the beasts inside. Timidly, I approached the untamed stronghold while holding my parents’ hands and after a few exchanges of paper and small coin which I had not yet understood, we entered the animal kingdom.

            The Zoo was as every bit magical and awe-inspiring as I had remembered and imagined it to be. I saw magnificent animals collected from all over the world trotting, striding, and swimming all around me. The collective roar of the beasts was overwhelming, it could be heard anywhere and everywhere, and I was humbled all the more by its presence. The entire experience was exhilarating for a 6 year old boy, but it only could get better. Eventually my parents caught up to me and with a mischievous grin, my father took my hand and led me to a low-lying barn structure in the distance, If only I had known what was in store for me. The place looked innocent enough, the classic red painted paneling and white beams gave it the rustic feel. My father took me inside to a small bin where I chose a dirty brush filled with hair, then he used some of his coins and some feed was let out of the dispenser. Finally my father once again took my hand and led me into the small enclosure packed with animals galore. First my father led me over to a small pink pig with a short tail and flat nose. My father told me to open up my hand where he placed feed. I gently extended my hand towards the small beast and before I could blink my eyes the feed was gone and so was the pig. Eventually my father gave me the entire bag of feed and I was off on my own to negotiate with the animals myself. Somehow I ended up in a corner isolated from other humans, but being arrogant at such a young age, I thought I was safe. In the corner I found my small piglet friend from earlier and quickly I strolled over to greet him. Once I arrived, I quickly bribed him with some of my feed then got to work combing him, but it did not last long, after a few strokes the pig quickly glanced to my right and then just like last time disappeared before my eyes with what food I had given him. Perplexed at his sudden disappearance I despondently started to salvage the crumbs he left behind so I could coax him into returning to my hand, but then I heard a devilish bah that haunts me to this very day. I slowly turned around and only 6 feet away was a pack of sheep led by a black one from which the evil noise originated.

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 I can remember very distinctly, his beady red eyes piercing me with a thousand needles, his thick coat, black as night and so shiny I could see the flames of hell flickering along the hair, and finally his long horns sharp enough the pierce steal, and long enough to impale several grown men. I gazed at the intimidating figure and he prepared to charge. His hoof cleared the top dirt so he could get better traction, meanwhile I sure I saw flames come out his nostrils when he exhaled. I was cornered by his lackeys and cut off from any hope of salvation from any adults. I was in the corner of the pen, helpless against the large malevolent sheep. He began to charge and my short life began to flicker before my very eyes. He was closing fast and I accepted the end, when I heard a goat. I looked to my right and saw a large figure hurdling itself over the sheep herd’s blockade, it was contrasted against the sun but I could make out its figure; the powerful rolling horns, the thick shiny coat of pure brilliant white, and a stylish goatee that could only belong to a goat. He charged so fast I could barely turn my head to keep up, the demon sheep was not so lucky. My charging nemesis was unable to get any traction in the loose soil and was carried by momentum alone. The goat lined down his head and bashed the black sheep with enough force to break every bone in a man’s body. The wicked sheep, that moments ago was about to take my life, was now slumped on the ground next to the wall motionless. The herd quickly scattered at the sight of the goat’s unquestionable dominance. I was still sitting on the ground stunned by the events when the goat boldly walked up to me and licked me as if to communicate that he was sorry for what I went through. I quickly opened my bag and let him eat it all, while I went to work with the brush on his fine silky coat. To this day, I remember these events and ever since, I have never turned my back to a sheep and I never will, but I know if I were ever in any real trouble, I could always count on the noble goat to act selflessly without restraint, taking any action possible to protect the powerless and those that are in need.

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