One day Dad decided to go out and buy some sheep for our spread. He bought three, one for each kid. I think perhaps he thought they might mow the lawn for him and look good at our “farm.” One day the Johnsons came to visit and they had a nasty little dachshund who chewed one of the sheep’s legs. The leg got infected and it was decided that the sheep needed to be put down. Not owning a working gun, Dad decided to call police Chief Dan Bates to put him down. The officer put the sheep against the house and fired a shot that ricocheted off his skull and landed in the siding of the house right underneath where Brad and I were watching the situation unfold through a window. My father got really angry and told the officer to do it right. Finally he was able to kill the sheep. With Mom’s insistance, Dad gave the other two sheep away to a local farmer. After all, Mom was the one who ended up feeding them and caring for them. The next year Dad brought home thee ducks, Huey, Louis, and Dewey. They were not ideal pets. They would chase us and try to bite us. They ended up being given to a local farmer as well, who provided us with a cleaned and beheaded duck to eat as payment. I think it was Dewey. We didn’t eat well that night. But the dog sure did.

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