I'm Gonna Be Rich!

Caught me one of them chupacabras last night. I heard somethin’ and went outside. Caught him suckin’ one of my goats. Well, I didn’t actually see him doin’ the suckin’, but I’ve been raisin’ goats for over thirty years, and I can tell when one of them’s been sucked.
Anyway, there he was, standin’ in the pen, lookin’ at me, his eyes shinin’ in the flashlight beam. So I picked up a rock (I don’t cotton to guns, lessen I have to) and chucked it at his head. Dang if I didn’t hit him on the first try. He went down like a sack of wet feed, and I dragged his hairy self into my barn.
Well sir, I showed him to my neighbor, old Nathan Varnish, and he said:
“Vernal, what you got there ain’t no chupacabra. It’s a boy.”
I looked at Nathan long and hard, and then said to him:
“But he was suckin’ goats, and he looks like one of them ‘cabras.”
Nathan scratched his head a touch and shrugged. He is the smartest man in Plimly County, and it was him that figgered out Mrs. Ludlow’s horse didn’t have no foal, just a real solid deposit of manure. He smiled at me and asked if I’d performed the test.
“What test is that?” I asked.
So old Nathan proceeded to tell me how a man can tell if he has a real chupacabra or not. Then we shook hands, and he went off to tend his fields, leavin’ me to check the validity of my find.
Now, I been beatin’ and beatin’ this thing and I can’t, for the life of me, get him to give up his pot of gold. So, do I have a real chupacabra? Don’t rightly know. But I’m gonna find out…if it kills him.