The Big Day

Honestly, I had my doubts. I'll never forget the animal control officers opening the back of their truck to show me the most horrifying sheep I'd ever seen. She was laying on her side so covered in burrs that for a couple seconds I thought she was a hair sheep...with mange. The smell was overwhelming. Her wounds were beyond "significant". I was in over my head.

As soon as we dragged her from their truck into the back of my car - using a sheet because there was nowhere to get ahold of her, jostling her, causing her to cry out in pain - and I was headed down the road, I called Saint Tim, trying unsuccessfully to hold back my tears. "I've gotten myself into a horrible situation. This is unbelievable. I'm probably just going to have this poor thing put down. I can't believe she's still even alive in the first place."

I remember Dr. Baron opening the back of the car, taking one look and telling me and the tech that had come out to assist to stand shielding her so no one in the parking lot could see in. This was a PR nightmare. On several levels. Only because Renny had made it this far, fought so long, we decided to give her a chance. Any other sheep we'd have put down. Any other sheep wouldn't have made it this far anyway.



I remember my friend Kathy coming out to help me get her out of the car when we got home. We got her out of the car, she scrambled to her feet and we herded her into a stall. I couldn't believe she was standing up. I threw her some hay and she immediately started eating. I remember saying "Well, at least she's up and she's eating. I figure anything that's still eating has a chance."



I remember being able to stick an entire betadyne scrub sponge inside the hole in her leg. I remember monitoring the heat in that leg - too hot, infection; too cold, it had died and needed to be amputated. I remember Louann smelling the wounds each time she came out to monitor the amount and type of infection she was fighting. I remember hearing from too many people how they'd faced similar situations and never had one live through it.

I wish now that I'd taken pictures of how bad everything looked in the beginning. I had been encouraged to do so, but just. couldn't. do. it. I stumbled across this picture the other day. It was about halfway through and I had printed it out to take over to the clinic to show the vets how great everything was looking, how far she'd come. Everyone was amazed.



Here is a picture I took last week.



The picture I could've taken this morning would show no scabs. Nothing but some very minor scarring on the right hip and a patch of hairless skin on the bad leg, smaller than the size of a dime. Everything is healed. Even, as far as I can tell, Renny's mind. She shows no signs of trauma. None. She stills watches out for Iris, who quickly skirts around her at times trying to "herd" her, but she's more likely to direct her attention to fighting Weaslie for ewe nuggets.

I was worried that she'd never learn to trust or even like me - because of all the painful scrubbing, shots, oral meds - but recently got her eating ewe nuggets first from a scoop I was holding and then from my hand. Watching her bound across the yard when she thought I had food? I could settle for that. However, Hank startled her one day last week and she came running to me for protection. That made my day.

I'm not sure why Renny was so tough. Why she held on for so long. Did she just have faith that her life was going to get better? Was she just putting one foot in front of the other? Regardless, I believe there's a lesson there for us all. We can take from her what we need.



And truly believe in guardian angels.

Renny, Ewenice, Saint Tim and I would like to send out a huge thank you to everyone for your caring kindness and support and especially your prayers. This truly has been a miracle.