Monkeys and Goats and Monkeys and Goats

I made the mistake of answering my phone. I thought perhaps someone had a quick law question, or wanted to know when the next hunter safety course would be. Instead I was on the phone for thirty minutes with Linda. The conversation was very random, and I had a hard time deciphering what exactly my role would be in the outcome. Here were some of her complaints:

Her neighbors were:


1. Stealing her goats.
2. Butchering her goats.
3. Shooting guns at the "bus" parked in her yard.
4. Trapping deer.
5. Shining her house. And deer. And her goats.
6. Harrassing her goats.
7. Building the fence on their property higher than is allowed by law. 8. Stealing "things" from her yard.
9. Moving "things" around in her yard.
10. Making her feel like she is crazy.

Sometime amidst her stream of complaints (mainly to get her off the phone) I told her I would come over and take a look at her property.

A few days later I called up a neighboring officer and asked him to come along with me to see Linda's place. I told him that I was questioning her sanity, but thought I could use a witness second opinion. And I promised to buy him lunch.

We arrived at Linda's place to find her not at home at the scheduled time. So, we got out of the truck and the first thing my partner said was, "Oh Boy". That about summed it up.

Let me paint a picture: there was a house that had been added on to, which had been added on to, which had been added on to; the windows of the house were boarded up; there was a chain link fence surrounding the property, though parts of it were collapsing so someone had MacGyvered the situation by stringing along black netting (like that you put on a dog kennel) to fill in the holes; there was a bus full (and I mean FULL) of rusted out random junk, trash and garbage her possessions; the yard hadn't seen the blades of a lawn mower in years (ever); there were piles of refuse more possessions scattered randomly around the yard; you get the idea. In other words, I was a little frightened of walking about the property for fear of falling down a hidden cavern full of goats (because I certainly couldn't see any on her property anywhere else).

As we were standing there aghast inspecting her property, Linda arrived. It is hard to sum up the following conversation except to say that numerous times she stated, "I know I sound crazy...I do. I know I sound crazy- but it is the neighbors that are making me seem like it." and "I know the place is a little bit of a mess, but it is hard to clean it up when you are being harrassed by the neighbors." and "the sheriff is out here all the time. You can talk to them. They will tell you I'm not crazy."

Long story short...I did some checking. I checked the backgrounds and hunting history of her neighbors. There wasn't any background of having had hunting licenses, which after much checking, I surmised it was because they weren't hunters. In my experience, most "poachers" are smart enough to buy a hunting license.

Then I called a friend sheriff's deputy. I only had to say Linda's address and the deputy said, "You mean the monkey lady?"
"The what?"
"The monkey lady. And the goat lady. She had so many monkeys in her house that we had to remove her from the house. The septic system was overloaded."
"From the monkeys? So the monkeys were using the toilets?"
"I guess so. She has been in and out of the mental ward for years."

Upon hearing this I started to laugh....then later it dawned on me- it was sad. I drove by her place later that day and found her sitting in her truck in the yard, watching the neighbors house. I counted my blessings and hoped that my children will never have to deal with a mental illness.

From then on, whenever I drive by her place- I'm reminded how lucky I have been. And I try to get a glance over her fence to make sure nobody is butchering her goats....you can never be too sure.