OH NO! NOT LAMBIE AGAIN

IMAGE - FREEPIK

While growing up my father had small blocks of land that had sheep and during lambing time we often ended up with a few pets. Some we named others we didn’t but there was one time we had one that went by the name of Lambie…

Who didn’t like to stay in where he belonged, he ate the wires to my light off my bike in the shed and was notorious for getting out.

Tudunt tudunt tudunt

            ‘Oh no, Lambie again,’ were our words as we sat watching television in the front room just after lunch on the weekend. ‘He’s out again.’ His yard was a large unused tennis court, that had dug up holes from the landlords turkeys with large over hanging cyprus trees that kept the wind out. 

As his hooves hit the pavement and made the noise of Tu-dunt tu-dunt tu-dunt, which made all the hairs on the back of our neck stand up. Then came the bleating sound of his baaing.

Followed by unpleasant words from mum and dad (no swearing). Then we often tore outside and began rounding him up. Most times we would end up water streaming out of our eyes and sore ribs at the sight and frustrations of dad chasing him back to his yard.