A Sheep Runs Through It …(by Sandy Ryan)
Before our sheep grow up to be the wonderful sheep they are today, many arrive as orphans or bottle lambs. There is truly nothing sweeter than a baby lamb. Our lives are filled with endless entertainment, love- and silliness- as they run through our lives. We highly recommend them!
The sound of little feet galloping all around the house is my favorite melody. Changing diapers involves a routine chase around tables and chairs. A spirited game to out wiggle my efforts immediately ensues but I eventually win out, turning them loose in a cute diaper decorated with farm animals- of course.
The wild scampering makes it easy to keep track of them, when it is quiet mischief is afoot. OR a good old lamb pile nap snuggled up on their baby blankets in a sunny window that always makes me want to join them.
Gracie ran through, gleefully hopping about until her diapers fell off. Gracie knew when bottles were served, showing up in the kitchen every time the microwave beeped. Even if she found people lunch was the only disappointing choice on the menu.
Piper decided I was ‘his’ and followed me everywhere from day one. He sorted fleeces with me and slept under my loom. Keebler slept under my spinning wheel and loved to sleep on my lap-no matter what I was trying to accomplish. Sonny insisted on napping on the living room recliner.
We have many, many stories and our happy memories will continue to grow with future lambs needing shelter from cold weather, lots of good food and love. They eventually learn how easily they can outrun me on our walks outside. They learn that life in warmer weather is more fun outside making friends. Speeding around with the other sheep and playing endless games of tag.
The day comes when they are convinced they don’t ‘need’ me anymore and stay outside, just out of my reach for a few days. They come back looking for bottles when they need reassurance and as they grow, look to me for hugs. And Fruit Loops. Treasure, Baker and Rudy still think anything I bring out (even medicine) is a bottle even though they are now grown up elegant sheep.
I always cry when my babies move out to the barn. I miss their sweet selves barreling around the house, following my every move. Stealing my knitting or yarn I am trying to knit. Most of all I miss rocking them to sleep in front of the fireplace, snuggling them up to read a bedtime story.
A wise friend consoles me each time the lambs out grow me, reminding me “you’ve done your job, you did a good job and they are now good sheep.”