If you’ve read this column for any length of time you know that I am not an outdoorsy, nature-type person. Nature includes animals. I own them because as the mother of three children and the wife of a farmer wannabe, I have no choice. But the more hard-earned money I spend on critter necessities, and the more I find myself doing things like chasing sheep down the middle of the highway, I really have to wonder-what is the point?
Technically, it was hubby who was chasing the lamb down the road, but I worked up a pretty good sweat standing in the ditch shouting encouragement. Never underestimate the work of a cheerleader.
“Come on, honey! You can do it! Get that lamb, there’s nothing to it!!” I even kicked my leg into the air and almost touched my toe. I feel confident that my spectacular grand finale spurred him to finally tackle the runaway lamb.
We sort of inherited the little lamb, along with 25 chicks, from a petting zoo that overstocked for Easter. The kids named him Larry, after their grandfather. We quickly turned our garage into a make shift barn, and hubby spent lots of money on materials to build a chicken coop.
Once the chicks grew to the size of Cornish hens, I began to think that maybe our investment would be returned in the form of a delicious barbecue. As it turns out, hubby decided to keep all of these chickens for the eggs. It will take a lot of eggs to make up for the amount of money we have spent on this coop.
Shortly after we returned Larry to our garage/barn, hubby realized that he just wasn’t acting like his old self. (I wish you could see me rolling my eyes right now) How do you know if a sheep is acting like himself? But after he didn’t eat or drink anything for two days I admitted it was time to call the vet.
I was really dreading hauling that sheep in the van, but did you know vets make house calls? That’s a whole new concept for me! I had never really thought about it before, but this does explain the absence of livestock in the waiting area.
I made a couple of stipulations before having the vet come to the house.
Number one, I did not want to pay more to have the sheep cured than what he was worth in actual dollars. Sentimental value on an animal you’ve had three weeks doesn’t count.
Number two, I wouldn’t allow the vet to administer any type of treatment that might keep us from serving the lamb, in the form of chops, when the day comes that the kids are no longer taking care of him.
That is one nice thing about owning a sheep. When the kids break their promise to, “always take care of him forever,” you can threaten to roast him on a spit and serve him up to your friends. Can’t really make that threat with cats and dogs; you just end up being stuck forever taking care of them yourself.
So, after setting these simple guidelines, we scheduled the veterinarian visit. When he arrived, I was the only one home. That, in and of itself, is a sort of Twilight Zone as I am rarely home alone.
Armed with a list of questions I had been instructed to ask, I followed the doctor to the garage. I stood and observed while he did things that are probably the norm to the average animal owner, but it was new to me!
First of all, I noticed he wasn’t wearing latex gloves. I wear latex gloves when I am checking my own child’s temperature, so this surprised me a bit. But then….but THEN he pulled out a little glass thermometer, shoved it up the lamb’s rectum and held it there!! With NO gloves!!!
He pulled the thermometer out, gave it a little swipe across his pant leg and held it up with both hands to get the reading. He tucked it back into his pocket and then for some inexplicable reason, he TOUCHED his FACE!!!
Then he flipped the sheep over and started feeling around on its private parts. This was my fault, because one of the questions I was told to ask was, “Since he is banded and his “scrotum” haven’t fallen off yet, could he have an infection?” A question I never thought I’d find myself asking.
After the thermometer incident and the scrotum check, the vet listened to Larry with the stethoscope. And then he proceeded to PICK CRUSTY STUFF OFF THE SHEEP’S NOSTRILS!!
At this point I thought I was going to faint dead away. But I had to be strong as there were still more questions to ask. I took a deep breath and ventured on. “I really hate to ask this, but the kids really want to know and I promised I would ask you.” (long pause) “Larry seems to be getting really chummy with the chickens and we are wondering if maybe he misses his family and that is why he’s not acting like himself.”
There! I said it! And I even pulled it off with a level of sincerity.
Now, what happened next was purely maddening. The vet, bless his heart, took me very seriously. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and said, “Well, I’ve never seen a depressed sheep, but…”
He continued, but I was distracted by the fact that he was touching his face again. Didn’t he know where his hands had been? Does his wife realize he does this all day? Surely she makes him shower before he greets her with a kiss in the evening. Maybe I should call her and let her know that her husband seems to be unaware that he has been touching sheep rectum, scrotum, and crusty snot.
The next thing I knew, we had decided to give Larry a shot to clear up a respiratory infection. He took it like a man. I was very proud! Of course he took that thermometer like a man too, but somehow it didn’t evoke the same sense of pride.
As I was relaying this story to a friend, she said, “Well, maybe he should have worn gloves, because it might have been a sick sheep.”
HELLO!!! I don’t care if it’s a HEALTHY sheep, gloves would be a good thing! A little bottle of hand sanitizer in the back pocket wouldn’t hurt either.
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