Obituary for a Sheep
Photo by Ann Cook
Jeffrey, a longtime resident of Cook Peak, died Tuesday, April 26, 2016, at age twelve—sixty-four in human years, quite an achievement for a sheep. He will be remembered for his massive wool coat, cheerful nature, and alertness, which served as an alarm system.
Born in 2004 in Kelso Valley, CA, Jeffrey was destined to become a 4-H lamb to be raised and sold. After an accident with a horse weeks after his birth, which broke his hind leg, he was taken to a local vet for euthanasia. Seeing Jeffrey was otherwise healthy and deserving of a home, the vet set the tiny leg in a hot pink cast and called the Cooks.
Jeffery spent the next few weeks bonding with the Cooks on their back patio. He drank formula from a baby bottle on a schedule and wore a plastic bag over his cast on rainy days. Once his leg healed, he moved to the barnyard. There, he bonded with a gelding named Silverado. Jeffery grew up fast. He enjoyed late afternoon walks with his humans, their horses, a dog, and a chicken named Mary. When puberty arrived, Jeffery rode in the backseat of the Cook’s pick-up truck to the local high school, where he was banded (castrated). 4-H students and staff were surprised. Jeffery jumped out of the truck like a dog.
During his golden years, Jeffery enjoyed Wilma and her three pigs, who lived beyond his fence. At night, Amber the horse often slept by his pen. When free-ranging chickens searched for pill bugs and wandered in, Jeffery didn’t mind; he chewed his cud and watched or dozed in the sun. When the Ravens picked his wool to line their nests, he gave freely and never flinched.
“I’m sad Jeffery is gone,” said Ann. “It wasn’t easy to say goodbye to such an iconic figure of Cook Peak. I’ll never forget the last time I walked him. Liz and Ellen rode along on their horses. Jeffery was full-grown and very strong. I had him on a leash, but it was debatable who was walking whom. He wanted to follow the girls and their horses into a field. He came up behind me, between my legs, and carried me off on his back. I was mutton busting and could have been seriously injured. After I bailed into a ditch and checked for broken bones, I got the giggles. I limped home.”
At Jeffrey’s death, a veterinarian and his human parents comforted him. They stroked his face and told him he was a good boy, and how much they loved him, as he drifted off in the bed of a pickup truck. Rest in peace, Jeffrey.
