Those blasted sheep

They were lost. All of them. All one hundred.
One broke away. They all followed. Well… like sheep!
What are they to do? It’s autumn.
The clouds are rolling in.
It’s getting dark.

The morning started well.
Since then it’s got colder.
Their coats will keep them warm. At least for now.
They should have stayed where they were.
Not much of a life. Granted.
But they were safe.

Where is the farmer?
Is he out looking for them?
It’s a lot of sheep to have just disappeared.

“That bloody wretched dog.
Not much of a sheepdog now. Is he? He’s old.
Can’t be blamed for losing them. Not having control any more.
Should have put him out of his misery years ago.”

Wife wouldn’t let him. “It would be like killing one of the family,” she said.
So he lived. He carried on working.
Time to put him out to grass now though.
Let him live out the rest of his days in front of the fire.

“Now, where are those blasted sheep?”