We’d done so well this year with keeping the sheeps out of the damn garden, but George had to ruin the record, the bastard. I am not a fan of sheep in my garden. I confess to acting like a crazy woman with the screaming and the yelling and waving of big long things, whatever is handy.
The problem is that my crazy behavior seems to have given permission to the Big White Fluffy Dogs that getting cross and mean with sheeps is allowed.
A tree fell on the fence yesterday and we noticed it just after we rescued a sheep that walked out there where the tree hit the fence from out of the mouths of Maggie, Faith and Buffy. At the time, we thought it was handy. They cornered her, we walked up and tossed her back over the fence, and everything was fine. We then moved the tree off the fence, repaired the fence, went on our merry way.
But today, George got out again, and we saw all three Pyrs attack him. It’s pouring rain out there. We yelled from the house to cut it out, which didn’t work, and we barely made it out there before they killed him. I screamed, yelled, told them “NO!” as forcefully as I could, but it took a huge effort on my part to save the sheep and correct three dogs, all before Frank could get there behind me to help. What the hell?
Maggie was really protective and good with them, so were Faith and Buffy, just days ago. Something’s clicked in their heads that has changed the entire situation, and I’m continually reminded of Bloody Buddy. But I also remember the vet telling me that injuries along the flank from LGDs were from dogs who were trying to play. If they go for the neck, then I need to worry.
George has blood showing on his flank, but a lot of wool missing from along his neck. He’s hanging out in the trailer while I try to decide what to do.
Why can’t I keep him behind a fence and what the hell is up with our dogs?