I smooth my hair, paste on my innkeeper smile, and head out to meet my destiny.
Or at least, my goats.
The yoga instructor—Melody, she of the perpetually ailing grandmother—has actually shown up this time with four goats and no family emergencies.
"Sage!"She floats over in yoga pants that leave very little to the imagination."I'm so sorry about all the delays.Mercury was in retrograde, and then there was grandma's toenail situation?—"
"Is she okay?"I ask, because I'm not a monster, even if I feel like one.
"Oh, she's fine now.Turns out it wasn't infected, just painted the wrong color.She's very particular about her pedicures."Melody gestures to the goats."I brought the whole crew!There's Namaste, Chakra, Zen, and?—"
"Buttercup!"I finish, spotting my former houseguest among the group.
Buttercup looks up from where she's investigating someone's yoga mat and bleats in recognition.
Or accusation.
"She's been asking for you," Melody says."Well, not asking, obviously.But she's been very vocal.And she keeps escaping to look for something.Or someone."
My heart clenches.Even the goat misses what we had.
"Alright everyone!"I clap my hands, summoning my professional voice."Welcome to Cascade View Inn's first official goat yoga session!"
The participants—a mix of locals and tourists who apparently have nothing better to do on a Thursday morning—arrange themselves on mats while Melody starts explaining the basics.
"The goats will interact naturally with your practice," she's saying."They might climb on you, which helps with pressure therapy and mindfulness?—"
"Is it sanitary?"asks a woman in Lululemon everything.
"The goats are very clean," Melody assures her."They're bathed regularly and—Buttercup, no!"
But it's too late.
Buttercup has identified the most expensive yoga mat in the room and is methodically eating the corner with the kind of focus she usually reserves for my personal belongings.
"I'm so sorry!"I rush over, trying to extract premium yoga mat from goat teeth."Buttercup, drop it.Drop.It."
She looks me dead in the eye and continues chewing.
"She's spirited," the mat owner says faintly.
"That's one word for it."I finally retrieve the mat, now with distinctive teeth marks."I'll replace this, of course."
"Oh, that's not necessary?—"
"No, really."I think about the quarter-million sitting in my desk."I insist."
The session continues with the kind of controlled chaos I've come to expect from anything involving Buttercup.
Zen lives up to his name, calmly standing on people's backs during downward dog.
Chakra seems confused about the whole concept and spends most of the time trying to eat the photographer's camera strap.
Namaste has apparently decided this is a good time for a nap.
And Buttercup?Buttercup follows me around like a fuzzy white shadow, occasionally contributing commentary.
"She really is attached to you," Melody observes during tree pose, which Buttercup has interpreted as an invitation to headbutt my knees."Have you considered keeping her?"
