Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.

“Come on, Snoopy.”

I was on an evening walk with my dog Snoopy, taking our usual route across the bridge, past the Fulani settlement and down the path towards the little creek.
M-a-a. M-a-a-a-a.

Just before the creek, I saw a little goat. She was all by herself and, I imagine, crying out for her mother since she was bleating incessantly.
M-a-a-a-a-a-a.

When we crossed the creek to greet some friends on the other side, I realized that the goat was following us. We went to their house, had a little chat and turned around to go back home. Always, the little goat was on our heels. Was she so desperate that she mistook Snoopy for her mom?

I asked a lady at another house next to the creek if it was her goat, but she said no. The goat had been around their house all day bleating, but she didn’t know to whom the animal belonged.

Snoopy and I continued our way back, and I started wondering what I would do if the goat followed us all the way home. However, when we passed the Fulani settlement again, the goat heard the other animals and turned towards the houses there. Relieved, I went on, hoping this was where the little goat belonged and that she would finally find her mom.

The next evening, Snoopy and I went out again. And guess what? The little goat was waiting for us right where she had left us the day before, still by herself and bleating. Again, she followed us all the way to the creek and across.

“Where are you going with your goat?” my friend jokingly asked when she saw me.

We turned around, and this time, the goat was determined not to leave us. We passed the Fulani settlement with the goat still following. We crossed the bridge and were about half a mile from our house when I saw two boys running up from the pastures underneath the bridge.

“This is our goat! This is our goat!” they shouted. They had been herding their animals there and, seeing us, ran in our direction. Because of all the screaming and running, I quickly picked up the goat before she ran away and handed her over to one of the boys. He put her on his shoulders and exclaimed: “Thank you so much! Thank you so much! We have been searching for her for two days.”

I was so thankful that the little lost creature would finally find her home and mom again, and I felt blessed that I had been privileged to be part of a reenactment of the parable of the lost sheep.

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