Imagine my shock when opening my fan mail this morning and seeing that the shepherds are in.....Scotland ??? They COULDN'T be on a sheep buying trip - there is barely enough food to go around as it is. I did notice that the daily meager rations were coming from the sainted housesitter. But isn't Scotland very far away ???
Becca says "Benny - you thinking the next pasture is too far away because you have to walk for food." Not so...I just know that I am never the first out the door to the grass because you could wind up with hoof prints from the twins up your back if you rush.
Further more, the Shepherdess notes that Edinburgh is singularly short on yarn shops. Don't these people knit ?? She has been muttering about opening a yarn shop someday, but she says that there are more yarns shops in the Missoula and Bitterroot valleys than in Edinburgh. Can she open a yarn shop in Scotland ? I know she will never move away from me, so I think its safe. I hope she doesn't get any bright ideas...
We survived another shearing last week, but as always, it was close thing. I went last - something she won't let me do again. The shearer, or torturer, as we call him, was a bright young sturdy lad who seems to like sheep and wool in general. But he groaned like an old guy while trying to get me sheared. Kept saying things like "Benny, you are a BIG boy." Becca snickered and said, well, out of a condition range of 1-5, Benny is a 6. I don't think she meant that as a compliment.
As I waited to be tortured, stuck with needles, given a mouthful of icky stuff, I heard the shearer say - wait a minute. And he sat down to clean his clippers. I guess that one of the twins - Danny, with the 9 inch hoggit fleece had totally clogged his shears with grease. I need to watch that little poop - his fleece is getting a lot of admiration and the King of Fleece here is moi !