Dog-Gone Sheep

The dog wasn’t happy this morning. She raced happily down the steps, came face to face with our four-horned ram, Sir Poppy, and whirled back into the house. Then she sat at the French door balefully glaring out at her yard, where a flock of sheep and one llama nonchalantly grazed.

This happens every fall – Andrew lets the animals out of the paddock into the garden area for a couple of days where they clean up the juicy leftovers from summer, helpfully fertilizing the garden into the bargain before we rototill everything and put it to bed for the season. It’s a win-win situation for all of us. Except the dog, who prefers her sheep stay on the other side of the fence.

Well, Lady, you’ll just have to learn to share. They live here too.

Speaking of sheep, I read Three Bags Full by Leonie Swann recently. I like mysteries, and I have a meadow full of unusual breed sheep – two excellent reasons to read this novel featuring a flock of wooly sheep detectives – led by Miss Maple, the smartest sheep in Glenkill – trying to discover who killed their shepherd. As a mystery plot, it was engaging enough – though not without weaknesses – but the charm of the sheep was enough to keep me riveted. Delightful, quirky and entertaining.

Just don’t tell the sheep. I may let them share the yard for a few days, but I’m not planning on reading them stories on a regular basis.