Our new pet's baa-rmy!

Poor Larry was like a lamb to the slaughter until we rescued him...

Published by: Laura Hinton
Published on: 9th August 2010

Hearing the familiar buzz of the doorbell, my Labradors Saxon and Bess thundered down the stairs to greet my boyfriend Ben. ‘Charlotte, you know how much you like animals…’ he blurted. ‘Well, I’ve got a present for you.’
‘A puppy?’ I squealed. ‘Please tell me it’s a puppy!’
‘Erm, not exactly,’ he smiled.
Walking me over to his car, I peered into the back. Nestled on the seat was a sad, scrawny-looking creature he’d brought back from the farm where he worked.
‘W-what is that? Is it alive?’ I whispered, leaning closer.
‘Right now he is, but he needs your help,’ Ben explained. ‘A ewe gave birth a month early and rejected poor Larry the Lamb.’
‘He’s so small,’ I whispered. ‘And his tail…’
‘His mum bit it off,’ Ben, 22, sighed sadly, as Larry flicked the painful-looking stump.
Tears pricked my eyes, and my heart melted. There was no way I could turn down this poor mite.
Lifting him gently, Larry buried his head in my chest and made a small bleating noise.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after you,’ I whispered. And so it was I found myself up at 3am trying to feed Larry from a bottle.
‘He’ll need a strong course of medication and a lot of TLC,’ the vet sighed, examining Larry’s tail.
Suddenly, Larry did a wee all over the floor. ‘Is this going to keep on happening?’ I asked.
‘I suggest you get some nappies,’ the vet smiled, so me and Ben went straight to the supermarket.
‘Is there something you’ve forgotten to tell me?’ a friend shouted across the aisle as we trundled by with a trolley full of nappies.
‘It’s a long story,’ I grinned.
Back home, my jaw dropped as I walked into the kitchen. Larry had got out of his makeshift pen in the corner and wrecked the place.
‘Mum and Dad will go mad!’ I cried to Ben. But when I saw Larry, I couldn’t help but laugh. Saxon and Bess were having their ears suckled by Larry, who was snuggled up next to them in the basket!
‘Come on now, you’re not meant to be there!’ I tutted. But as I reached down, Larry bleated and showed his belly for a rub.
This lamb was baa-king! Who did he think he was… a dog now?
‘You’re a sheep, Larry, not a pet,’ I said firmly, wrestling him into a nappy and shooing him to his pen.
But later that night, when his bleating became too much, I gave in and let him trot into the dog basket. Saxon and Bess welcomed him like the son they’d never had.
Whatever next?
Walking into the kitchen the following week, I caught him munching dog biscuits from their bowl!
‘Get away!’ I shooed. ‘Baa!’ Larry responded, before scuttling back between Saxon and Bess.
It seemed while he was recovering, I was going to have to put up with his strange ways.
Glancing at the dog leads on the counter, I suddenly had an idea.
‘You think you’re a dog, we’ll treat you like a dog,’ I giggled. ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ I announced.
Larry didn’t even need the lead as he followed my every move.
Six weeks later, and with a little encouragement from the Labradors, I decided Larry was strong enough to go outside in a pen.
He wasn’t very happy at first, but it was time we got him trying to behave like a normal sheep. Besides, it was costing me a small fortune in nappies!
Now he’s back in the fields –
but I’ve a feeling he’d rather be chasing a stick!
Charlotte White, 24, Priddy, Somerset