I have a beau and her name is Sparkles. Sparkles is a golden blonde, her hair glitters in the sunlight and I think she loves me. That is Phoebe she is leaving, to be with me. Me, do you hear that Phoebe? Me.
It was overcast and everyone was busy chewing cud inside. The pen was empty, so I went out to clean the mess they’d left. Suddenly, I am the center of a giant living flower, with sheeps for petals. They were bored and I was the floor show. I went, and they followed, clustered around me until they realized there was no food involved. One by one the sheeps & goats abandoned me and went back into the dry.
Everyone but Sparkles.
She followed me here, then there. When I paused she came and leaned on me, waiting to be scratched or petted. I cleaned one half of the cement pen, she wandered over, dropped her sheep pellets in the clean & came back, leaning on thigh as I shook my head.
Maybe this was her expression of affection or approval, that she agreed to poop in the area I’d worked so hard on. Maybe she thought I’d cleaned it for her.
She was right, I did.
