My Love Triangle . . .

I hate to admit this, but I've become entagled in a love triangle. It's me, Blanche and Beau.

This morning, while I was squatting down hugging Beau, and trying my sheep-whispering technique on him, Blanche came over and knocked me over onto the floor.

She's just jealous because she's so fat and I'm so fit! And I have two arms with which I can hug Beau.

When I quietly sneak up on the troupeau to see what they're up to, Blanche and Beau are either nuzzling each other, or Beau is following Blanche and sniffing. For those of you who know Blanche, are painfully aware that you could be a kilometer away and you could still smell Blanche . . . I didn't cut her tail off, thinking it was cruel, and after all God gave sheep a tail for a reason . . .but now that tail is a urine-soaked, continually dripping, mass of feces-clumped dreadlocks.

I haven't figured out why God bothered to give sheep tails.

But despite this, Beau seems to have his heart set on Blanche . . .and ignores the young ewes with the cutely bobbed tails and clean derrieres.

As always, I hate to point out how wrong the Husband was . . . but I will. The Husband said Blanche was too old and fat to attract anyone and that she'd die a virgin. But au contraire, Blanche is Beau's favorite.

. . .or perhaps it's just that Blanche is the dominatrix and won't let Beau ogle anyone else.

When I left the flock this morning, poor Beau was left eating alone, while the other sheep were munching hay in groups of four. Blanche made it known that Beau must suffer for accepting my attentions. The worst punishment for a sheep is to be left alone.