Blessed

Feeling very fortunate tonight that my Lilly is not only still with me, but is pushing through the others to get to the hay.  I brought apples out for her mother, who, incredibly, is still able to crunch on them. She's a withered old lady and apples make her light up like a Christmas tree.  Lilly also loves apples and got fat on them two years ago when my hundred year old apple orchard came to life and gave us a boxcar load of them.   Last night Lilly barely rubbed her lips on the apple she dearly loves.  Her eyes were glazed over and bits of foam were around her mouth.  I gave her 8 cc of LA200, a cc of Ivomec, and half a small bottle of Nutri Drench.  Tonight she is pushing through the others to get her apple snack, and is belly up to the hay rack, happily munching away.  As I watched her eat, overwhelmed with gratitude to the Great Shepherd in the sky, I was running numbers through my head.  Six years here, four years in Pennsylvania (may that God forsaken state that Matt Redmond brought me to live in sink into the bowels of the earth I hate it so much and drive through it as quickly as possible on my way to the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival), then two years into the four years in western New Jersey where Lilly was born on Easter Sunday, hence the name Lilly, to her mother, Harmony, purchased from Lisa of Summerhill Farm.  Lilly is twelve years old!  I am way too attached to her, as I am/was to my first sheep.  There is safety in numbers to be sure.  Sheep only live 8-10 years, they say, but I've been lucky with many.  Unlucky with some.  The important thing is that Lilly, with her special personality and oh, so affectionate nature, is still with me, and happy, tonight.