Watcher kept us up most of the night puking and having diarrhea, apparently he ate something that didn’t agree with him. He seems fine now though. Peacefully snoozing, catching up on lost sleep while his humans stagger around blearily and wonder how they’re going to make it through work.
This morning, I drag myself out to the living room and I’m told that all the sheep have sore mouth.
“What?” I say. “All of them? Overnight? How could that have happened, there haven’t been any strange sheep brought in since I bought Barnabus last fall!”
“I don’t know, but their mouths are all bloody!”
“Bloody? Sore mouth doesn’t cause bleeding, it causes scabby blisters.”
In my sleep deprived haze, I blunder my way out to the clubhouse, vaguely thinking maybe they’ve all turned into vampire sheep overnight. They’re all fine. No blood, no blisters, nothing. Nova’s hair hasn’t grown back yet since she cut her mouth a while ago, but the skin is healthy and healed over; it’s definitely not sore mouth.
After a few minutes of confusion, it was finally decided that someone taking Watcher out to the bathroom for the umpteenth time must have checked the sheep right after they’d all been eating salt, when they had the red mineral mix smeared around their mouths and mistaken it for blood.
So. Not even ten o’clock and I can already tell it’s going to be one of those days.