The farmer looks out of the kitchen window at the pouring rain, lashing across his land on a ferocious gale.

He turns to his trusty sheepdog, sighs, and says “Ohh my, I really don’t want to go out in that, but I really need to go and count that newly arrived flock of sheep”.

His sheepdog, eager to please his master, says “That’s OK, I’ll do it, I don’t mind!”, wags his tail enthusiastically and darts out the door.

The farmer watches his faithful companion as he runs frantically around the field, turning towards the door as his, now rather soggy, sheepdog bounds back into the kitchen.

“There are 40 sheep in the field!”, barks the sheepdog, shaking himself and spraying water all over the good lino.

“That’s odd, I’m sure I only ordered 38”, puzzles the farmer.

The sheepdog looks up at him.

“Ohhh, but I rounded them up”.

Written By

Long time blogger, Father of Jack, geek of many things, random photographer and writer of nonsense.

Doing my best to find a balance.

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