A goat for a mayor

With his foray into public service, Opie had joined a select number of four-legged mammals ascending to small-town higher office. Voters have elected goats, donkeys and dogs to honorary mayor positions in recent years— almost exclusively in sparsely populated communities where a barnyard politician can reel in dollars from curious tourists.

The town of Florissant in Colorado elected a donkey named Birdie in a charity ballot that benefitted a history society. Some folks in Rabbit Hash, Kentucky, blanched at the election of a dog named Goofy in 1998, wondering if this speck of a town near the Ohio border would look foolish. But the mixed-breed dog’s victory raised at least $9,000.

In a way, Opie was Anza’s comeback kid, the right goat at the right time. Dan Hurtado, who raises goats for their meat, rescued Opie three years ago, after Opie’s mother, a Nubian goat named Satisfaction, abandoned him in the snow. Hurtado’s wife warmed the 3-pound baby with a blow dryer and fed him from a bottle. Hurtado named him after a television show character.

Meanwhile, some residents were rolling their eyes at the annual honorary mayor contest. For three decades, the unincorporated town has awarded the title to the candidate who raised the most money for charity. But some of the human politicians started to act—well, too political. One mayor printed mayoral stationary. Another attended a breakfast for Riverside County mayors.

Then Smith heard about Clay Henry III, the third generation of goats to preside over the tiny Texas town of Lajitas. Tourists loved to see the Henrys down Lone Star long-neck beers. Henry’s story stoked Hurtado’s and Smith’s ambitions for their 200-pound goat. They took Opie on the fundraising circuit—the feed store, the salon and the casino—netting more than $2,000 to fund a college scholarship at Hamilton High School. The goat beat out three men—including the incumbent mayor, Carl Long, who did not return calls seeking comment.

Robyn Garrison, president of the Anza Valley Chamber of Commerce, fretted business owners wouldn’t locate in Anza if they perceived the town as doltish. ‘‘If you’ve got a mayor who’s a goat, do you take the place seriously?’’ she asked. ‘‘I want people to take us seriously.’’

The chamber let the 2004 election pass without a ballot. In August this year, the community had to grapple with a new reality: Since the chamber hadn’t sponsored another election, Opie was out of office. ‘‘Mayor Resigns’’ is how the High County Journal headlined its account, which quoted Garrison as saying the goat had ceased to be mayor last December.

Opie seemed to take the news in stride, retiring among chicken coops, horses and fellow goats Georgia and Firecracker. And the chamber board decided that another community group should take over anointing the town’s leader.