Monday, November 3, 2014

The Truth About Riding Sheep

There comes a time in every girl's childhood that she notices a void in her life. For me that was a horse. Having never wanted anything much, up until that point, it seemed like it would be something easy to obtain by simply smiling and requesting it.
But the pony request was met with silence. It seemed there was a limit to the happiness my parents would allow me. So I decided to pray to the God-person everyone was always talking about.
It became clear that he was a fake.
So I turned to the other magical entity of childhood....Santa....
It was harder for me to understand why Santa didn't answer. I had physical proof of his existence every Christmas morning. It seemed silly he wouldn't bring me a pony, when I did all the things that adults told me constituted being a good girl.
It was clear I needed to take matters into my own hands.
I decided to turn our dog into a horse.
The dog was less than cooperative and I soon gave-up. I cast about for different ideas and soon I had an idea.
I scoped out my mother's small gathering of animals (her attempt at rekindling her childhood farmyard memories) and decided on my next victim.
I wanted to commandeer the fastest animal. I was surprised when I discovered which animal that was.
The geese were by far the speediest of our creatures and also, as I soon discovered, relatively difficult to straddle. After several attempts I finally had myself the most unlikely of pony substitutes.
However, geese are an oppressed creature and it wasn't long before my goose-horse turned quite violently against me.


The Goose was not a long term solution.
It was clear to me that I would need to pick an animal with less dexterity of the neck, no beak and no tendency to manic fits of violence.
I decided upon what I deemed to be the most gormless of creatures.
The sheep were faster than me and after running several futile laps of the field, I had to reconsider my tactics.
I decided to pull out all the stops.
After several ninja-type approaches that failed, I decided to scale a tree that they grazed under. I knew they would never expect me to drop from the sky onto their fluffy little backs.
I'd like to say I only tried this method once, but we both know that would be a terrible lie. Instead I plunged from the tree countless times.
Each time. the sheep would wait till I was inches from straddling them, before side-stepping neatly out of the way and continuing to graze. The sheep broke me, I lost interest in finding a pony and learnt an important lesson about underestimating our fluffy friends.

6 comments:

  1. This is absolutely brilliant! What a story.

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    1. I like to imagine that I'm not alone in this. I seem to spend a lot of time imaging I am not alone in things.

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  2. You have reached new artistic heights with your study of the sheep Alvy.

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  3. Ok, this sounds crazy and I never expected to read this, but I had this EXACT experience. Except that it was against my will. Honestly. I lived on a farm as a kid and we'd a dog and a few sheep. One of my first memories is my parents putting me up on the dog's back and as he ran, I fell off. Ouch. But sure, my parents being pure sadists decided to try and see if sheep were better vehicles of transport. That didn't work either.


    Sarah
    www.postcollegechronicles.blogspot.ie

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    1. Must go check out Post College Chronicles. A title like that suggests it will be the story of my life. I am jealous that your parents encouraged you, mine tried to keep the animals clear of me! It's weird how even the most bizarre stories seem to end up being universal.

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