Goats, guns and a lot of bull

I need some goats to eat the brush in the back part of our land. People have been asking me what kind of goats I need. I don’t have a clue because my farming knowledge is very limited. I just want the kind of goats who eat brush and don’t bother my dogs or neighbors, low maintenance goats I would say.
My stepfather and I didn’t have the greatest relationship. One of the reasons was because I was totally ignorant about farm animals and living in the country. Riding tractors or feeding cows was never a part of my chores. He and my mother married in 1972 after I graduated from high school, so I would spend summers there during college. I think he thought he was going to put me to work when I moved there, but I liked to cook and entertain and paint my fingernails and do my hair. Farming was not in my plan during summers. I would say that is an acquired hobby or chore. One needs substantial experience to do well. I was not that person.
One morning my stepfather called me from his work and asked me to go outside and listen for chain saws. He owned a lot of land around his house and he thought someone might be cutting his timber. So, I laid the phone down, walked outside, and all of the sudden I spotted a big pig with a lot of little baby pigs eating some sort of feed he had in the carport. I rushed back to the phone and told him: “I don’t know about any chain saws but there’s the biggest pig in the world in the carport eating some kind of feed.”
His response? Get the gun.
“Ummmm….how do you shoot a gun and where is it?” I asked.
“Click.” He hung up.
Did I mention I don’t know anything about guns either? I went back out in the carport and yelled “shoo” a couple of times in my really loud voice, but that big mama pig paid me no attention. She was kind of intimidating, and I did know she would be protective of those piglets, so I just let her eat away at the feed. She was gone by the time he got home from work.
Summers on the farm were a little stressful for me, and they got real stressful when my stepfather hurt his shoulder and couldn’t even mow a pasture. That left me as his field hand, mowing the hay meadows. I did pretty well with that until I ran under a tree too close and a branch caught me and almost knocked me off the tractor.
 Another time, I was left in charge of my stepfather’s bull who liked to get out of the fence and go visiting with the other cows in nearby pastures. He was a 2,000 pound Charolais bull. I had watched my stepfather use his standard, flat bottom truck, to get the bull to walk back through the fence before. As luck would have it, while they were out of town, the big bull got out. I only had a little Delta 88 Oldsmobile, and I tried to do the same as he did with the truck. He, the bull, didn’t seem to be intimidated when I ran right up on him, sitting down on the horn right in his face. He came at me a couple of times. but I backed up the car and was persistent in my struggle to get him over the fence. When my stepfather returned from his trip, I proudly told him my bull story. He forgot to mention a Charolais bull can get extremely irritated and mad and can turn over a smaller automobile.
Back to my goats. I guess I just need some city goats that like to eat brush. I don’t need to know if they are male or female. I’m not going to name them or get attached. I just need some that have a good attitude and will follow instructions if needed.
I’m getting better at my outdoor knowledge. I watch Duck Dynasty now, and I’m going to learn how to shoot a gun.