My Sheep Worming Experience

    Some times when I look back on something it really was funny.  May not have been at the time of origin, but in hindsight, yes.   
    Some of the sheep need to be wormed.  I decided since Hon was at work I'd do it.  Have I wormed them before?  Not exactly.  I've played the role of moral support...supervisor...medicine dispenser.  However, I figured I've watched Hon enough times over the years to be able to do it myself.  I figured also if I were able to worm the sheep Hon would be happy to tic that off his list of things I ask him to do.
    I started with Dandy.  I got the wormer in the syringe and then got myself a bit of grain to give her.  Sort of like when the lady plyed Hansel and Gretel with sweets before opening the oven door.  Dandy graciously nibbled on the grain.  Then I got a hold of her by a horn so she wouldn't take off.  So far so good.  I had a problem with getting the syringe thing in her mouth because she kept looking down and I needed her mouth tilted up more.  Then I remembered back on how Hon has done it some times when they weren't cooperating.  Mind you, he's overall bigger than I am, but that didn't deter me.  Dandy wasn't being uncooperative in any way other than her persistence in keeping her head down.  I threw a leg over her back and stood there like I was going to ride a real short horse.  Then I put my hand under her chin to tilt it up some, inserted the medicine plunger thing, and down the medicine went.  Yes, that's exactly what happened.  Horay - one sheep down!  
    Ok, as Paul Harvey would say, "And now for the rest of the story..."  As I was getting the last bit of medicine in Dandy she decided she didn't like it.  She started walking backward, oh...I'll say quickly.  I was also wearing flip flops, which was not an ingenious thing to do.  Don't do that.  Next thing I knew I really was riding her, my flip flops were where I had started at and I was dragging my feet through grass and unmentionable animal substances.  She had her horns hooked around my thighs, which was quite nice of her considering it kept me from falling off, until her behind collided with the fence.  Then her horns let go as she bounced forward, her butt went down, her head came up, and her horns got me in the chest, at which point I was ceremoniously  deposited in a pile of horse poop.
    My pride went out the window years ago so that wasn't a concern.  What was a concern was me wearing my cute little jean shorts while sitting in a somewhat fresh pile of poop.  Then I thought back on the experience and couldn't do anything but laugh.  I got myself up out of the poop, collected my medicine syringe, found my flip flops, and decided it is best for me to leave the rest of the worming up to the professional and continue with my job of supervisor.  My cute little jean shorts have met the trash can and seem quite confortable with their retirement.  When Hon gets home I'm going to tell him I was able to worm one of the sheep, but I think I'll keep the rest of it to myself.  Smiling & Waving, Sharon