Sequins yes, dogs no
Perryville is thirty days from its highest holy day, which is to say the first Saturday in October, which is to say the Arkansas Goat Festival, which is to say the only municipal occasion in this republic where a lingerie show is considered agricultural education and the city is correct.
The park is already being polished. The municipal goat park — Perryville remains the only town in the country that admits this out loud — will host the living guests. The vendor list is full. The sentence on the poster that keeps the peace is the same sentence as last year and the year before: no dogs. This is not a slight against dogs. This is a math problem. Eight thousand people, two stages, a costume parade, and a working goat park cannot also be a dog park without becoming a letter to the editor.
Nanny Belle has begun the seasonal work of advising on sequins. Sequins are not required. Sequins are, however, a kindness to the photographer and a warning to the goat that the day will not be ordinary. A well-fitted cape will outrank a last-minute tutu. Glue is not a closing system. If the costume can survive a sudden opinion about a popcorn stand, it may survive the parade.
Between now and October 3 the correct rehearsal is not the walk. It is the trailer at dawn, the water in the shade, the animal who has seen a crowd before the crowd is eight thousand. Heat will still be a character in early October if it feels like it. Bring the second tub even if the forecast pretends to be polite.
We will not preview the lingerie show beyond the public fact that it exists and is called, in some years, Nannies at Night. Dignity and glitter can share a halter. Anyone who cannot hold both ideas at once is welcome to stand by the soap-making booth and think about lye.
Until then: sequins yes. Dogs no. Shade always. And if you are sewing tonight, leave room at the neck. A goat who cannot swallow is a goat who will file a complaint with this paper, and we are already short of grease pencils.