I loved your story.But I think I love the sheeps name Petunia better,:)

It reminds me all too much of the sheep my preacherman Grandfather had. He hd three pastuers for them. He would three gates to change their pastues out.

Pasture #1 was the furtherest one away from the house. To open that pasture he would roll back a fence, and all the sheep would jump through a hole in the fence to go to the second pasture. It was amazing to see how many sheep in such a hurry could all fit in that hole as they all jumped through it.

Off to pasture #2 which had a barn hook up to the pasture. Inide the barn we feed the sheep. All I remember about the barn is how bad it stunk, and cleanning it up... WOW, it was tortue.

Pasture thee was the scarriest of all. GrandPa would have to open a fence on the other side of his back yard, then open pasture #2, and the sheep would run, (stampeed) to pasture #3. I was in the backyard playing hide-and -go seek... I was never so scared in my life.

Grandpa had them sheared, but the shearer kept the wool a payment. I never saw anyone spin the wool or make clothin. All I saw were a bunch of naked sheep running for cover.

Great story Dawn, it took me way back.