Yes, you rely on Menandcats.com to bring you the cutest man-cat combos around, but this man-goat combo of Michael and Chauncey is so special I had to share it!

Michael Patrick Welch is made of awesome. I met Michael through my husband, and I was fortunate enough to get an autographed copy of Michael’s first novel, The Donkey Show, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Michael has lived in New Orleans for the past nine years, and is currently working on a new book, Transport Instinct, which he says  is “about evacuating with my pet pygmy goat, Chauncey, and living on an odd goat farm in Houston, TX.” He’s also an amazing musician who, among other things, teaches music to children in New Orleans. You can help him self-publish his new book by donating via his Kickstarter page. After the jump, a FAQ about Chauncey the famous goat, and a bonus Chauncey pic.

CHAUNCEY THE GOAT FAQ by Michael Patrick Welch

Q: Oh my god, a goat! Can I pet your goat!?

A: You can try. But he’s not a dog. Baby cats and dogs are licked by their parents, and so forever find comfort in being stroked. Goats don’t lick. So while Chauncey desires companionship, he often distrusts hands, especially close to his face. Mother goats butt their young (often so hard that you’d worry!), so Chauncey actually finds more comfort in being punched in the skull.

Q: Wow that was a long answer. So how did you end up with a goat for a pet?

A: Because our wonderful house in Bywater had a giant yard, my wife wanted a dog. But I love animals too much to want to control when one can and cannot shit. So we joked about getting a goat who would just live outside, pooping little odorless black beans wherever, whenever. We jokingly found the website of Rosedale Farms on New Orleans’ West Bank, and went out to visit on a lark. When the pygmies like fat, knee-high seals all silently approached us on stubby legs, questioning us with many calm eyes, urban goat husbandry suddenly didn’t seem so esoteric. “And with a yard y’all’s size,” the farmer’s wife promised, “you wouldn’t even have to feed him.” Then moments into our Rosedale Farms visit, a mother goat gave birth to two boy goats. After witnessing such a miracle — and after the wife told us her husband sells boy goats for food, or just kills them quickly if she can’t find them homes — we poneyed up $75 for one baby boy goat, to be picked up a week later.

Q: How much did it cost?

A: ‘It’ is a he. And I just answered that. Girl goats cost more though, a few hundred.

Q: Do you milk him?

A: We tried. But the cheese tasted funny.

Q: (silence)

A: Only girls give milk.

Q: Oh, right. So he eats anything, right?

A: Well no, I don’t know if it’s because Chauncey’s so small, or so spoiled, but I’ve never seen him glance twice at a beer can. He only greens that will give him sustenance, and also anything that is flat, thin and crinkly: leaves, plastic bags, $20 bills, birth certificates. We sometimes give him a handful of sweet feed, though an LSU vet explicitly directed, “Don’t feed him anything. Just let him eat the yard.” This same student doctor also claimed that the cigarette butts we can never keep Chauncey from sucking up off New Orleans’ dirty streets were actually good for killing off the internal parasites goats inevitably contract from eating off the ground.

Q: Where do you keep him? Does he live indoors?

A: We might bring Chauncey indoors when he’s tired enough to pass-out in a corner. But because goats are wired to never stop hunting for edibles — and many important things are made out of paper – Chauncey’s not the best houseguest. He enjoys palatial accommodations in our big, green yard.