Mountain of Sheep | My Shetland

Mountain of Sheep | My Shetland

Here is a Mountain of Sheep, ok, hill. Picky, picky.

Dear little Maggie. She arrived at our gate a few years back and has never left home, ever. It might be the breakfasts – just sayin’ – and I think it is.

And Edna, who again came off the hill in a gaunt state along with her daughter, Madge, now has double chins and no teeth (i think I can relate).  How has that happened?

She is set and happy in her routine. I am her slave.  We both know this.

And then there is the bulk that is Lambie.  Basically a lozenge in shape, sheep …..

…. and possibly in mind!  This morning he was closed for business.  We had no conversation.

Harrel-The-Barrel spent his morning optimistically following me and my restaurant around.

And the noble profile that is ‘Bert.  What a guy,

Lambie obstinately remained immune to my presence or my camera.  Snooze on Lambie.

And *** cough *** The World’s Fattest Sheep – Madge.  It is not my fault she is so fat – she had her tags cut out and was chucked onto the hill to die.  Like a refugee, she only has to look at an éclair to put on weight. I understand this and feel her pain.

And lastly, but not leastly, we have ‘Ster who is just a misunderstood sweetie with huge separation anxiety.  Guys? Guys? he shouts as they all wonder off and say nothing.

So this is my Mountain of Sheep, which is really a small hill.

Mountain of Sheep | My Shetland

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