Smokey Mountain Breakdown

We had a heavy rain and some stormy weather two days ago. Things come out of the woods when it rains, I’ve noticed, and I guess something did that night. The sheep were gone Sunday morning.

Yeppers—back down the cliff in the neighbor’s cow pasture.

I spent the first part of the day attempting to catch Rose. This was the plan--I would load up Rose and take her down there on a lead and use her to lure the sheep to a bucket of feed—then lead the sheep back up the hill.

I knew catching Mutton wouldn’t be a problem. And once I had Mutton, Chops would follow.

Brilliant, eh?

What happened was a typical countryside fiasco.

The neighbors have this German Shepherd dog I am in love with. He somehow got Aegis’ personality. His head shape is even oddly like Aegis’ and he’s just the friendliest dog I’ve met since I lost my Yella Fella.

So, Friendly Dog follows me. I realize that Sheep are never going to come to me with Friendly Dog hanging around the jeep begging for pets. Also, Sheep are very delicious looking. I understand that. They are delicious looking to me and I’m not even a dog.

I give Friendly Dog the slip by going around the back way.

All goes well, as planned, and I tie Mutton to the hitch and slowly start inching back home pulling Mutton behind me. I have to stop every so often to get out and check on him. Black-faced Chops is following as planned. Yay—looks like this is going to work!

Just as I’m about to pull out and head back up the mountain—Oh Noes! It’s Friendly Dog!

Friendly Dog decides to help by skillfully using his shepherd genes to cut Chops off from the Sheep caravan. Off goes Black-faced Chops.

Mutton and I make it to the bridge and Friendly Dog comes back, having successfully put Chops back in the pasture he’s not supposed to be in.

At this point, there is no reason to keep Mutton stressed out following the jeep, so I stop and cram his uncooperative sheep ass in the jeep. He’s heavy and not helping at all.

Friendly Dog—who is only doing this for a good snuggle—follows me almost all the way home. I don’t want him knowing where I live, since I have a feeling he’d be hanging out here all the time. I tie him up at another neighbor’s house then call the other neighbors and tell them where he is.

So—I now have Mutton home, but Chops is still down the mountain. Chops is dumber than dirt, impossible to catch and I’m not sure he’s bright enough to make it back up here on his own.

But here’s hoping. May I have two sheep in the yard in the morning.