Zen and I are pooped after our night on the town.

The little white goat rescued from slaughter a few months ago settled easily into our journey to Manhattan yesterday. Though I stuffed a large airy carrier full of hay, he settled so easily that before we reached New Paltz I pulled over and opened his door so he could walk around the back of my Subaru wagon. He did move around a little--mostly, though, he stayed nestled in his hay, munching either that or the carrots I brought along. And he napped. A lot.

I parked on 7th Avenue between 13th and 14th Streets, where virtually every passerby stopped to smile at my little pal as he nibbled at the grass planted around a brave tree sprouting up from the concrete.

"What's he doing in the city?" everyone asked. Dogs stared in disbelief. They didn't bark...just stared as if they didn't quite trust their eyesight. "Hey Zim...." I saw a little Chihuahua glance at his pal Babwe..."are you seeing what I'm seeing?" And city folk clustered around Zen Sunshine, who greeted everyone with the same eagerness he displays at Catskill Animal Sanctuary.

My book reading was not held at Rapture, but instead was held around the corner at Otto's, where Daniel (of dlist.com fame and the night's organizer) dj'd in the front while Jean Rhode, Zen, and I greeted guests in a quiet, enclosed back space. I needn't have been concerned about Zen, who spent the evening challenging new human friends to King of the Mountain (the 6" stage), nibbling people's fingers and sleeves, and gratefully accepting water and treats of lettuce, carrot, and apple.

I read a chapter from Where the Blind Horse Sings about Paulie, the former Brooklyn cockfighting rooster, and one about Rambo, the violent sheep turned barn guard and greeter.
I spoke of the devastating cruelty and impact of factory farming, and of the lessons learned from formerly abused animals. People asked questions and bought books.

Mostly, though, they admired our little spokesgoat, our little ambassador Zen.