I have a pet goat.

The modern philosopher and writer Ryan Holiday, whose works often echo the discipline of the Stoics, once spoke with disarming simplicity: “I have a pet goat.” At first glance, the phrase seems plain, even trivial—merely the observation of a man with an animal. Yet beneath its simplicity rests an ancient truth. For the goat, in myth and history, has been more than livestock; it has been a symbol of resilience, survival, sacrifice, and companionship. To claim it as a companion is to align oneself with humility and endurance, virtues prized by the wise through the ages.

The goat is not like the hound, who is celebrated for loyalty, nor the horse, honored for its nobility, nor the cat, admired for its mystery. The goat is often overlooked, even mocked, yet it is among the hardiest of creatures. It climbs where others fall, it feeds where others starve, it survives where others perish. To have a goat is to live with a teacher of perseverance, a daily reminder that life is not about grandeur but about endurance and adaptability. Holiday’s words, though light, reflect this deeper symbol.

In the ancient world, the goat bore sacred meaning. To the Greeks, the goat Amalthea nurtured the infant Zeus with her milk, making survival possible for the god who would one day rule Olympus. In Hebrew tradition, the goat bore the sins of the people on the Day of Atonement, sent into the wilderness as the scapegoat. In both stories, the goat carried weight beyond itself—nourishment, survival, sacrifice, and the burden of human failing. Thus, when one says, “I have a pet goat,” it is not simply ownership but participation in an eternal story of resilience and meaning.

History, too, gives us practical echoes of this symbolism. In times of famine, plagues, and war, goats sustained households when greater beasts could not. Their milk, their flesh, their hides—these humble offerings meant survival. For peasants and kings alike, the goat was a companion not of vanity, but of necessity. It was never the proud stallion in the parade, but the quiet sustainer of life in the shadows. To keep a goat, then, is to live not in grandeur but in truth, close to the earth, in harmony with the wisdom of sufficiency.

The meaning of Holiday’s words is also a Stoic one. The goat is not glamorous; it is useful, it is enduring, it is enough. To have a goat is to embrace simplicity over spectacle, substance over show. It is to say, “I do not need the finest horse or the most elegant hound. This creature, humble but enduring, is my companion.” In a world obsessed with wealth and appearances, the goat becomes a symbol of contentment with what is essential.

The lesson for us, then, is clear: seek the company of what is humble and enduring, not what dazzles and fades. Learn from the goat the art of climbing steadily, of surviving with little, of making a way upon the rocks of life. Do not despise simplicity, for in it lies strength. The goat does not glitter, yet it sustains. The goat does not boast, yet it endures. To live like the goat is to live with quiet resilience, a life not enslaved by vanity but free in sufficiency.

Practical actions follow. Embrace simplicity in your daily life—choose what is useful and lasting over what is showy and vain. Do not scorn the humble, whether in creatures or in people, for they often carry the greatest strength. Learn to endure hardship not by wishing for grandeur, but by making use of what you have. And above all, remember that greatness is not always majestic; sometimes it is found in the quiet persistence of a creature who climbs mountains where none thought it possible.

Thus the teaching endures: “I have a pet goat.” Spoken simply, yet echoing through history, it reminds us that resilience, humility, and sufficiency are the true companions of a wise life. To future generations, let it be said: cherish what is humble, honor what is enduring, and learn from even the simplest of creatures. For in the shadow of the goat, you may discover the light of wisdom.