Ewe-Jean
The day was beautiful. The sun was out. The temperature was mild. Shep had led them out to a wonderful green pasture on the side of Deth Mountain. Ewe-Jean was enjoying each succulent morsel of grass.
Every time she raised her head just a little, there was another patch of grass greener than the one she had just finished eating. The next patch tastier than the last – she just went right on eating. Time meant nothing to her. She had never tasted such a bounty before.
She shivered and looked up for the first time in what must have been hours. She had chewed her way to the valley floor and was now in the shade of the mountain. The sun was setting behind it. The forest closed in around her; the grass tufts that had appeared so enticing in the daylight were turning grey in the dusk. She couldn’t see the path that had brought her here, and there appeared to be no path to lead her out.
The fear in her heart began to grow. Normally, Shep would have noticed one of his flock moving off. He would have said something. Why did Shep allow her to leave the safety and comfort of her friends? Did she not hear him when he called for her to come back? That couldn’t be possible. Surely, she would have heard his voice. Nothing could be so enticing as to eliminate her ability to hear the love that he had for her, right?
As her doubts increased, her fears increased. The greater her fears became, the more insecure she was. The more insecure she was, the more her doubts increased. She almost jumped out of her wool coat when she heard the voice.
“Hello, Love. That’s a mighty fine coat you got there. Is it made from cotton perchance?”
Ewe-Jean looked around but didn’t see anyone who might be talking to her. “Who-Who’s there?” She stammered.
“Down here, Love.”
Ewe-Jean cocked her head and moved her eyes along the ground.
“Getting closer… Closer… Right, standing on the rock. Can you see me now?”
Ewe-Jean was staring right at the rock; she squinted her eyes, “My, you are tiny. Who are you?”
“Bo Weevil, Esquire, at your service.”
“Bo Weevil?”
“Esquire,” he replied to her question, “The ‘Esquire’ is very important. I spent many years working on it in the field of botany.”
“Bo Weevil, Esquire…”
“Right, but you can call me Bo,” he interrupted. “So that coat of yours – is it made of cotton?” He had a hungry way about him.
“My coat? Made of cotton?” Ewe-Jean was confused by the question. Surely someone who knew so little and was, in fact, little could cause her no problems. “It isn’t made from cotton. It is some of the finest wool in the world.”
Bo sighed. “So much the better then, I guess. You appear to be lost, Miss…” He drew out the “s” to form a question.
“Ewe-Jean,” she provided.
“Miss Ewe-Jean. Such a lovely name for a lovely sheep with such lovely wool. I believe that you are right. I have never seen any wool finer than the very wool that you sport as a coat.” His words dripped with sweetness.
Ewe-Jean blushed at the compliments. “Thank you,” was all she could really manage.
Bo smiled, “So where are you headed, Miss Ewe-Jean?”
“I-I-I…” She began to cry, “I wasn’t headed anywhere. I was just eating and, and I don’t know how I got here.” She burst into tears.
Bo made soothing sounds until her sobbing slowed down. “Don’t worry, Love, I’m here now. Old Bo won’t let anything happen to you. Just stick with me…”
“Well,” Ewe-Jean interrupted, “I’m sure Shep will be here anytime to come get me.”
“That’s alright. While we wait for him, you may as well check out some of the sites. I guarantee that you will be safe with me. I’ll just hop up to your ear, and we’ll talk and walk at the same time.”
Ewe-Jean sighed, “Well, I guess I should do my best to try to find my way back to him.”
“That’s the spirit.” Bo climbed up to her ear. “Let’s just go forward a bit.”
Every time she raised her head just a little, there was another patch of grass greener than the one she had just finished eating. The next patch tastier than the last – she just went right on eating. Time meant nothing to her. She had never tasted such a bounty before.
She shivered and looked up for the first time in what must have been hours. She had chewed her way to the valley floor and was now in the shade of the mountain. The sun was setting behind it. The forest closed in around her; the grass tufts that had appeared so enticing in the daylight were turning grey in the dusk. She couldn’t see the path that had brought her here, and there appeared to be no path to lead her out.
The fear in her heart began to grow. Normally, Shep would have noticed one of his flock moving off. He would have said something. Why did Shep allow her to leave the safety and comfort of her friends? Did she not hear him when he called for her to come back? That couldn’t be possible. Surely, she would have heard his voice. Nothing could be so enticing as to eliminate her ability to hear the love that he had for her, right?
As her doubts increased, her fears increased. The greater her fears became, the more insecure she was. The more insecure she was, the more her doubts increased. She almost jumped out of her wool coat when she heard the voice.
“Hello, Love. That’s a mighty fine coat you got there. Is it made from cotton perchance?”
Ewe-Jean looked around but didn’t see anyone who might be talking to her. “Who-Who’s there?” She stammered.
“Down here, Love.”
Ewe-Jean cocked her head and moved her eyes along the ground.
“Getting closer… Closer… Right, standing on the rock. Can you see me now?”
Ewe-Jean was staring right at the rock; she squinted her eyes, “My, you are tiny. Who are you?”
“Bo Weevil, Esquire, at your service.”
“Bo Weevil?”
“Esquire,” he replied to her question, “The ‘Esquire’ is very important. I spent many years working on it in the field of botany.”
“Bo Weevil, Esquire…”
“Right, but you can call me Bo,” he interrupted. “So that coat of yours – is it made of cotton?” He had a hungry way about him.
“My coat? Made of cotton?” Ewe-Jean was confused by the question. Surely someone who knew so little and was, in fact, little could cause her no problems. “It isn’t made from cotton. It is some of the finest wool in the world.”
Bo sighed. “So much the better then, I guess. You appear to be lost, Miss…” He drew out the “s” to form a question.
“Ewe-Jean,” she provided.
“Miss Ewe-Jean. Such a lovely name for a lovely sheep with such lovely wool. I believe that you are right. I have never seen any wool finer than the very wool that you sport as a coat.” His words dripped with sweetness.
Ewe-Jean blushed at the compliments. “Thank you,” was all she could really manage.
Bo smiled, “So where are you headed, Miss Ewe-Jean?”
“I-I-I…” She began to cry, “I wasn’t headed anywhere. I was just eating and, and I don’t know how I got here.” She burst into tears.
Bo made soothing sounds until her sobbing slowed down. “Don’t worry, Love, I’m here now. Old Bo won’t let anything happen to you. Just stick with me…”
“Well,” Ewe-Jean interrupted, “I’m sure Shep will be here anytime to come get me.”
“That’s alright. While we wait for him, you may as well check out some of the sites. I guarantee that you will be safe with me. I’ll just hop up to your ear, and we’ll talk and walk at the same time.”
Ewe-Jean sighed, “Well, I guess I should do my best to try to find my way back to him.”
“That’s the spirit.” Bo climbed up to her ear. “Let’s just go forward a bit.”