Mrs. Udder

It was a day of searing heat in the Israeli village where I live. I was sweating, huffing and puffing my way up the hill that leads from the women’s yeshiva to my home. My mind was full of lofty Torah thoughts. Should I have grape jelly or strawberry jam on my PBJ? What would Hillel do? After all, he was famous for his crunchy matza sandwich. That’s it! I would add crunch to my PBJ by smashing potato chips into the middle of it. Yes, it’s true, my future husband will have many wonderful dinner surprises awaiting him one day.

I moved over to the side of the road as a car passed and stubbed my toe on an amazing piece of yard art – an old rusty motorcycle turned on its side. And that’s when I saw her. It was like one of those mystical Baal Shem Tov moments, when a teacher would appear to him in the middle of the woods. Tied up to a pole was a white goat that looked like she swallowed a blimp. Her udder was about an inch off the ground and looked like it was ready to explode and send her on an aerospace journey. Mrs. Udder had managed to take the rope and weave it in and out of the motorcycle handlebars, double knot it around two tree branches 4 feet above her head and individually wrap three of her four legs.

In a flash I tossed off my backpack and in my best super hero voice said, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Udder, I’ll save you.” As I begin excavating her from her predicament, she lavished me with her appreciation by wiping her goat nose on my shirt and alternately butting her horns into my stomach and my back, depending on which way I was facing. After I finished untying her legs, she stomped her hoof into my foot. In that single moment I learned everything I ever needed to know about the silent scream.

By the time I had extracted my foot and dusted myself off, Mrs. Udder had once again entangled herself in the rope. I must confess, I was having a few negative thoughts about Mrs. Udder. Yet, I decided, I would be the bigger person and began lifting her legs up and out of the rope. In the process she managed to loop the rope around my legs. She jerked forward and there was a huge thud called my head and back hitting the ground…. What a way to die, I thought. Couldn’t I have gone in a more glamorous way like flying off a trapeze?

Concerned for my well-being, Mrs. Udder came over to assess the situation or chew on my shirt. I knew if I got trapped under her udder, either suffocation would set in or the pressure would actually cause her to pop. I should have never bad-mouthed goat milk. Measure for measure, the goats were getting back at me…

The thought of Mrs. Udder popping was enough to get me on my feet. I decided the thing to do was to go find a farmer. I needed an expert opinion. Farmers are a new phenomenon to me, and I was kind of excited about finding one. It would be like being on the set of Little House on the Prairie or something.

“Mrs. Udder, I am going to get help. Maybe just stand still. Quit with this whole grazing thing. It doesn’t look like you’re lacking nutrition, if you know what I mean,” I said.

I limped my way down the hill yonder and fetched Yacov, the goat farmer. I explained the situation to him as we walked. He looked deep in thought…. I was sure he was coming up with the best solution to this very delicate situation.

“You know you got a big dirt clod on the back of your head,” he said.

“Why thank you for the information, Yacov…. So kind of you…..”

By the time we got to Mrs. Udder, she was all twisted up. Yacov rubbed his chin as I waited in anticipation for the rescue plan.

“You know,” he said, “goats are dumb. That’s the bottom line.”

“Well, what are we (hidden meaning: you, Yacov, because you are the man and I obviously am too sophisticated for this) going to do about it?” I asked.

“Just leave her… I don’t know who her owner is. But let me tell you, if she gets really uncomfortable, she will squeal so loud, her owner will come get her… You’re from the city, aren’t you?” he said giggling under his breath as he walked away.

“You, know, Mrs. Udder, you really are kind of dumb,” I said.

“Oh yeah, may everything you drink turn to goat’s milk,” she said.

“No wonder they used to send you over the cliff once a year…”

The Lessons I Learned from Mrs. Udder: 

1. Don’t try to help people who don’t want help…

2. If you keep trying to help someone who doesn’t want help, you will get tied up in their mess with goat snot on your shirt, a concussion, and a dirt clod pasted into the back of your head.

3. If it’s you that keeps tying yourself up, realize you need help. We all can be kind of stupid.  No Jew sins without falling into momentary idiocy.

4. If someone does help you, don’t be stubborn. Try to accept the help with humility and gratitude. Don’t sabotage the help Hashem sends.

5. Once you are out of your mess, try to stay out of it.

6. If you get tangled up again, start over, declare a new beginning….

7. Try to always listen to Hashem…. We are dumb… let’s face it…..

8. If you find yourself in a really big mess, squeal very, very loud, and your owner, Hashem, will come find you and help you.

If after reading this, anyone is concerned over Mrs. Udder’s well-being, I am happy to report that I visited with her yesterday. She was eating an entire watermelon. Needless to say, she still looks like she is going to pop.