There are two types of people in the world; those who like sheep and those who do not. I personally fall into the latter category. So here’s the story of why I am terrified of the woolly animals…
I was walking my dog one chilly Sunday afternoon, and I decided that I was going to take her on the “long walk”, a walk that takes you to pretty much every field around and in my village (and is about 45 minutes longer that the usual walk) *I don’t do it often. It’s a treat.
So we set off and everything was going well. There were no dislocated limbs, lots of 3G and no blisters. However, this atmosphere of “happiness” was about to change.
As I was flailing about in my wellies (as you do) I noticed that in the distance was a flock of sheep. I was cool, calm and collected; I had walked in a field with sheep before, but that was with about four other adults and my sister, so I decided to call my parents to aid me.
My dad picked up and so I told him the situation, asking him what I should do. He told me to, “put the dog on the lead and just walk through.” He also suggested that if a sheep would come close I should, “scream and they should go”. Thanks Dad. No really, thanks.
So I walked into the enclosed field (shutting the gate behind me obvs) and even though I was slightly shitting myself, everything, so far, was good. The dog was scaring a few of the sheep with her (not so) terrifying stance, but she wasn’t dying or anything. However things would take a turn for the worse.
Two sheep took a keen interest in the dog and me and began to advance towards us. #pray4sofia. I froze. I had no idea what to do. I just stood there in my incredibly uncomfortable wellies and stared at them. Then I remembered: Dad’s Advice.
I screamed a very high pitched please-don’t-kill-me-scream and suddenly the whole flock (50+ sheep) snapped their heads towards us and that’s when I knew that I ducked up.
They began to trot towards us; by this point I was now already silently crying and also subconsciously wailing “don’t get me”, “I don’t like this”, etc. It was awful for me. The dog on the other hand was probably on some sort of drug as she was completely oblivious to the whole situation.
I figured out that I needed to actually move , so just as I finished my wailing monologue, I ran the fastest I think I have ever run in my life (which is not too fast as I don’t really exercise much) towards the gate. I looked behind me and the sheep were now running. Fast. I ran faster. The gates were now visible, but the only thing that was slowing me down was the dog, still on the powder. I reached the gate and opened it, shaking.
I scraped through with the dog trailing behind me and did a half laugh/ half wtf. I immediately called dad to tell him of my traumatic experience, and mum answered the phone. She wasn’t really comforting so I hung up and decided to walk the shorter, more muddier walk.
Moral: forced exercise/ exercise in general is not fun and don’t walk in a field of sheep.
*my dog has never taken drugs. I think.