The sheep have started getting some hay, although there is still some grass out there. Princess was dubious at first, but eventually gave her stamp of approval to the new foodstuff.
“What is this DryPokeyStuff? I don’t want this, I want crunchies!”
“This is called hay? I guess it’s not that bad. I’d still rather have crunchies.”
The sheep don’t seem to mind that the temperature is almost constantly below freezing. I wish I had their tolerance for cold. Sandy and I are already counting down the days until spring!
“Stupid sheep all warm in their stupid fleeces; it’s not fair! I’m just going to sleep here on my couch, with my jacket, and my blankies, and my pillows, and maybe climb onto someone’s lap for a while to warm up.”
Yes, Sandy, you have such a hard life.