Feeling a Little Sheepish...

The time will come to wean lambs from their mothers and my parents will regret having ever welcomed one into their home.  Separating ewes from their lambs is a noisy process as is, but separating a lamb from a plush dog bed, warm milk and cuddles and other furry four legged friends that love to play, will indeed be a difficult task! 

There is always the odd lamb or two each year that requires extra human attention because their momma just isn’t giving it to them.  Lambs raised on bottle make the friendliest critters because they naturally trust people and are not afraid to be near people.  Basically, it thinks you are its mother.  They become pets; however, they should remain outdoor pets. 

I took it upon myself to Google “sheep as pets” and the first thing that came up was Lambs as Pets:  Great Companions or A Baaad Idea?  Apparently, people keep sheep as pets all over the world!  And here I am feeling sheepish and thinking my parents are odd!  I guess this was a long time coming, having a lamb temporarily live in the house.  My sister and I used to bottle feed lambs all the time, out of necessity, but then they would proceed to follow us out of the barn and join us as we waited for the school bus.  This was so normal to me growing up in the country, but one time while promoting our local fair on Breakfast Television, we brought a lamb to Toronto and several dozen city-goers choked on their coffees and screamed in disbelief, on the way to work as they passed us on crowded sidewalks. It was like an episode of Just for Laughs, Gags.   
  
In hindsight, my parents must have polished my instinct to bring lambs into the house as a little girl.  My parents would come home from work only to find a clean lamb dressed in my finest baby clothes, a diaper and a dirty bathtub that needed scrubbing.  This was my favourite past-time and I think that’s why I had so many friends when I was little.  I mean, who wouldn’t want to play dress-up with lambs instead of Barbies when you are 10 years old?  
 
Recently, nature vs. nurture came to mind as I drove to work one morning.  I stop by my parents early each morning to drop off a dog and grab a coffee.  As I pull up the drive, their dogs and the new “dog”, Lambie gallivant towards me and greet me with barks and baas and licks and head butts.  Then, they proceed to wait for me to open the car door and let my dog out, so they can greet him in the same manner.  Lambie trots about, sniffing the way dogs say hello and I even think I saw him try to pee on the car tire.  My dog Brisk, who still thinks little children are from outer space, is starting to adjust to having a lamb share the attention, the water bowl and the dog bed!  The environment really has rubbed off on Lambie and physically, yes, he is a woolly lamb with loud bleats, but mentally he is a canine companion in the Bunnik household. 
    
It is a true circus.  His gentle nudges may soon turn into head butting the cats and knocking the wind out of dogs and humans alike.  It’s all fun and games until someone gets head-butted by a ram.  And there will come a day when no more milk is given and kibble may not be an option.  This will be easier said than done.  Lambie will in turn, have to nibble at fine alfalfa, fresh grass and eat sweet molasses flavoured grain in a field with other’s just like him.  Torturous, after such an elite upbringing.

After all, farming is a business, right?  And not a pet shop business.  Soon those guttural baas and high expectations won’t be so cute.  He is going to expect fluffed pillows once back in the barn… Straw just won’t cut it.  Perhaps a sheep skin rug?