I have been living the story of the Good Shepherd rather more often than I would like this week.
Sally and Spot made a run for it last night when my husband was letting the chickens in. We ended up looking for them for nearly two hours in the pouring rain, sludging through mud and puddles up over my rubber boots with flash nights and a rapidly growing soggy can of feed. It felt like we examined every blade of grass and tree in the five acres of pasture, but they were nowhere. I was so tired (I had only had time for two scrambled eggs and a banana at 7 am, and here it was 8 at night) by the end, I thought I could just happily lay down in the wet grass and mud and sleep well.
I kept thinking about that dog bite on the lamb and that suture line on the ewe and what a night in the cold and wet would do.
Turns out, it did nothing. My husband found them in the morning, right where I thought they would be last night and they joined the flock when they came out for breakfast. We brought the whole gang in this afternoon and I was able to give them their penicillin shots and spray them with fly spray and antibiotic solution.
It's been a wet, cold summer. I am ready for sun. At some point next week, I need to drag the family to Kona (long drive) so we can get into some sun and swim in the ocean. There are beaches on this side - but lately, no sun at all.