Sick Sheep Seldom Survive

I didn’t realize how much I loved him until we were terrified that we were going to lose him.

I pulled on a sweatshirt before heading to the barn. The moon was only in the first quarter, so I forged my way through darkness before lifting the latch to the gate.

I threw on the switch, which created instant incandescent light, plunged the scoop into the feed sack, poured the pellets into the trough, and waited for the stampeding hoofs of one goat and two sheep. But one of them, Sebastian, our Blue-Faced Leicester sheep, didn’t come into the pen to eat. Alone in the corral, he was just standing there, uninterested in the feed, for the first time in his life. Was he already full from grazing? Was he tired? Even though he seemed unruffled, the cool breeze that drifted past us sunk into the marrow of my bones and set off all my alarms. There was nothing normal about his behavior.

I probably didn’t take off my muddy shoes when I entered the house.

“I’m worried about Sebastian. He doesn’t want his feed. We’d better check on him,” I said to my husband.

In the corral, Sebastian was sitting where I had left him. I tugged at his collar. He could raise his hindquarters, but could not support his weight on his front feet. He plopped back down.