A long time ago, back in the dark ages of the late ’40’s, my brother and I lived on series of farms as our father moved around.
On one farm, possibly in Dalwallinu, or maybe Cunderdin (Wheatbelt towns for those outside Western Australia) we used to clean our teeth each night leaning over the edge of the verandah.
Mum had a habit of adopting little lambs if they were orphaned.
One year she adopted a cute little lamb and watched it grow despite our boyish enthusiasm for using it as motive power when we were tired of pedalling out little pedal car. We never did manage to get Lambsie to “fetch” like a real pet would.
We also did not notice it was developing two bumps on its head.
One day, after some months of playing with Mum’s pet, we were cleaning our teeth and leaning over the edge of the verandah, a couple of feet in the air, which is quite a distance if you are only a couple of feet tall!
We were concentrating on what we were doing and didn’t notice Lambsie coming up behind us.
Suddenly my brother was butted in the backside and over he went, face first into the dirt!
I started laughing so hard at his discomfort that I didn’t notice Lambsie come up behind me!
With both of us bawling our eyes out, Mum came out to see what had happened.
She laughed at us and called Dad out to see. Dad comforted us by promising that we would not be bothered by the young ram, Lambsie, again!
That Sunday, Lambsie was the best tasting Roast Lamb we had ever had!
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