Sadie, my sweet yet inept Australian Shepard, needs herding lessons. Bad. She herds the chickens into he pond, kids around the front yard, the guineas into the woods next door, and the cows back and forth through the pasture.
I took her to a local trainer a few weeks ago. Apparently, my Sadie is a herding genius. I, on the other hand, need some work. A lot of work.
The trainer placed herself, Sadie, and three hair sheep in a small round pen to try out her natural instincts. She began herding them like it was her job. Instinctively picking up on the trainer's signals, and running those sheep like it was her job.
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| Am I sexy, or what? My vote is what. |
My job was to simply walk across the ring and exit through the metal gate. The trainer said that if the sheep headed my way, to simply throw my hands in the air and they'll divert. It did not go well.
The first time they ran toward me, I threw my hands up and they scatter in the opposite direction. The second time they charge I raised my hands, and no such luck. I was backed against a 6-foot metal fence. And they ran UP me. Not around. Not over. UP.
I felt six front hooves dig into my leg. Then my forearms. They my forehead. I stumbled into the center of the ring, dazed and seriously confused. And crying behind my sunglasses because I was just that embarrassed. It was kickball in fifth grade all over again. I'd gotten smacked, and it hurt my body and pride.
The people watching rushed to open the gate, grab water, and Advil. Lots of Advil. Once I got over the initial shock, I realized just how beat up I was. My head pounded. I was bleeding. And I was sleepy.
I don't consider myself graceful. I'm always finding mysterious bruises from run ins with random tables, chairs and animals. But this time, The sheep kicked my bootie. And leg. And arm. And skull. One for the records.
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