It’s been a vile, if warm, dreich day today.  The dogs got soaked on their walk. Pepper insisted on pressing up against the electric heater in my shed while I made sheeple.

And Ted huddled pitifully on the chaise longue. Is there no sadder sight than a wet dog?

Meanwhile, the sheep had taken shelter with the ducks.

They all seemed to be muddling along so I left them to it.

Later on, the weather cleared and the sheep all clambered under the fence to go out into the field to eat.  All except ‘Ster. He just can’t do it and goes around bleating miserably to himself or to anyone who will listen (me).

I am used to this. I know what to do. I called him up.

But first I grabbed a piece of crackly paper and I lured him through the open garden gate.

And then ‘Ster followed me through the garden.

He knows the drill too. ‘Ster is not allowed to tell OH that he is doing this …

…and he is not allowed to eat any of OH’s precious plants.

No, he is not! Them’s are The Rules.

Seriously, ‘Ster what are you thinking? OH will do his nut if he sees this!

Once through the garden, I let ‘Ster out through the little garden gate and he waits for a treat. I kissed him on the top of his head and told him that was all he would get. He trotted off to find his friends.

I told you, we both know the drill.

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