How
I Got My Cardio, My Comedy, and My Comeuppance in One Afternoon
So the other day I made the questionable life choice of going to a
friend’s house to help her deworm her sheep. Because apparently, I
woke up that morning and said to myself, “You know what sounds
like a fun way to break a hip? Playing tag with livestock!”
Now, my friend, bless her optimistic, wildly misguided soul, does
not have a catch pen. That’s farming 101 right there. It’s like
going fishing without a net or raising toddlers without caffeine. Not
technically impossible, but why would you?
Yes, sheep are dumb. Dumb as a box of rocks. But they’ve got
this uncanny sixth sense that lets them detect one thing instantly: a
stranger with a drench gun = probable death.
Doesn’t matter if I’m smiling, speaking gently, or handing out
free samples—they're convinced I’m there to murder them one by
one.
For those non-farming folks, a drench gun is a big syringe but
instead of having a needle on the end, it has a long tube. Stick the
tube w-a-a-y back in the animal's throat, push the plunger and Voila!
Liquid goes down the animal's throat. Easy, peasy. But, of course,
you have to catch said animal first.
First sheep? Piece of cake. A bottle baby. She basically thought I
was her mother, therapist, and personal chef all rolled into one.
Deworming her was like giving a snack to a golden retriever.
But from that point on, the party was over.
The rest of the flock took one look at that drench gun, and
immediately filed a class-action lawsuit against me under the Sheep
Geneva Convention. They scattered like I was handing out IRS audits.
One by one I managed to catch them and do the deed.
Then there was the last one. The boss ewe. Big. Hairy. Full of
attitude. Picture a linebacker in a wool coat with the suspicion
level of a TSA agent. She saw what I did to her buddies and decided
she was having none
of it.
She stayed exactly one corner away from me at all times. No matter
where I moved, she mirrored me like we were in some weird barnyard
version of “Swan Lake.” It was majestic. And infuriating.
So I turned to the universal sheep bribe: grain.
I tossed a little at my feet and casually pretended to be
just another farm gal
with zero ulterior motives.
The other sheep—traitors—wandered over, shoving each other like
they hadn’t eaten in three years. Slowly, Miss Mountain O' Wool
crept in too, lured by the intoxicating scent of molasses, cracked
corn, and bad decisions.
When she got close enough, I went full ninja.
I simultaneously dropped
the grain bucket and
launched myself through the air like a deranged flying
squirrel, latching onto her
fleece with both hands.
She shot off like a cannonball with me riding her like I was
eight seconds from a rodeo championship.
She zigged. She zagged. She ran what felt like a full marathon
with me clinging to her neck like a particularly determined burr.
Finally—finally—she
collapsed in a heap like she’d just done two hot yoga classes
back-to-back. There I was, still on top of her, panting, covered in
dust, and questioning every life choice I’ve made since 1973. Did I
mention she was extremely large? It was like doing a 5 point
restraint on a Shetland pony.
My friend, who I swear was selling tickets and handing out popcorn
at this point, ran up, looped a rope around the ewe’s neck, and
chirped, “Okay! I've got her. You can get off now!”
Oh really? Righ, I'll get right on that.
I’m 62. I’ve got a knee that sounds like bubble wrap when I
move, a back that protests louder than a toddler at bedtime, and
enough extra fluff around the middle to make gravity a real bully.
And you want me to just hop
off this beast
like I’m dismounting a bicycle?
Yeah. No.
Eventually, through a series of loud grunts and what can only be
described as interpretive flailing, I managed to get upright.
Graceful it was not. But we got her dewormed.
And then?
She just stood there. Stared up at me with her beady little eyes
and this weird expression that clearly said: “Hey lady… that
was kinda fun. Wanna go again?”
Final thoughts:
Sheep are dumb.
I’m dumber.
And if
anyone needs me, I’ll be icing my everything and rethinking my
friendships.
Please leave a comment below. I love hearing from you.