Living on a small farm it was always going to be thatwe would have sheep. Lawnmowers. Pets not chops. Our four girls as we refer to them is a little misguided as one of them is in fact a castrated male. He got into the mix when being selected for a privileged life. Can't blame him really. He now has to live with a girls name, Rosie but he considers it a reasonable sacrifice. Betty has the most protruding eyes as in Betty Davis eyes and is always the last to the feed trough. But today Shirley is our worry. Shirley had the curl in the middle of her forehead which has almost disappeared now. Shirley's curls are the least of our worries as she has a front leg that she cannot put weight on. She can hobble on the other three but needs some medical attention. I rang the local vet surgery. According to their website they look after dogs, cats, birds and horses. But no sheep. I thought that they might laugh at me for considering a vet visit for a sheep. They didn't. They asked her name and asked about her condition. The vet is coming out to see her today. I hope it's just a boxthorn in a hoof and nothing more sinister. I know it's probably slightly hypocritical to be a lover of slow roasted lamb shanks but any animal in distress goes straight to the heart. I'm staying away from her until the vet arrives as she sits on the ground and only gets up when I come to the wire fence. She loves a slice of apple so I will save her some for later. Fingers (and hoofs) crossed for Shirley.