“It’s living with Duke, I’m telling you. The stress is turning me gray! That and I don’t get enough crunchies.”
“What did you say about me?”
“Oh, nothing, Duke.”
I’m not completely sure how old Duke is, but he’s at least a year or two older than Barney, and he doesn’t have any gray outside of his markings. The white spots on his face and sides are actually getting smaller. He’d have a gorgeous fleece if it didn’t all turn to felt while he’s wearing it. I’m told the technical term is that his fleece is ‘cotted’. I generally call it ‘useless’.
“My buddy Liam is just a lamb, and all the brown in his wool is completely gone!”
He hasn’t faded, Neo.He’s supposed to be white.
“Pfft, yeah right. I’ve never heard of such a thing. Everybody knows sheep are brown!”
“Don’t worry, Liam. I like you anyway, even though all the brown in your wool is gone.”
Yesterday when I went to put the boys up for the night, Neo was making a valiant effort to climb up the side of the hoop house. Neo is indeed his father’s son; Duke must have been so proud.