There are many things to recommend this dark joint just south of White Rock Lake: the opening hour of 7 am every day except Sunday, the cheap long necks, the curvilinear bar mended in spots with red tape, the sassy bartendrix who will need to see your ID even if you're over 40, the live blues bands. But, really, all you need to know is this: the last time we were in the Goat, we saw a dog bellied up to the bar, sitting on a bar stool. And the dog behaved better than most of the customers.
