writing prompt: sheepdog retired, sheepdoll acquired. easier on the budget, easier on the eyes, easier to lose track of out on a pasture.
A sheep doll?
You were understandably skeptical, but you couldn’t really afford to spend another couple years on a new dog. Especially at this price, it was an offer you couldn’t refuse.
She was a pretty little thing too. Cute curly horns and soft lamb ears poked out of tightly coiled white hair like wool. You’d have half a mind to dress her up like little Bo Peep if you didn’t know better.
You expected more of an adjustment period, but the sheep took to her almost instantly. In fact, it might've been the most calm and well behaved you’d ever seen them. You were almost a little hurt.
Maybe they were just more comfortable with something more like them.
Still, you couldn't help but wonder what exactly she was doing differently. So you just watched. That was your job after all. Even if she did seem to have everything covered, you were still a shepherd and you were going to watch your flock.
It’s all you really had left to do with her around. Maybe you would’ve been better off just leaving her to tend them alone. That's what they were for right? Taking the burden off of you, freeing you to do as you please?
You should’ve been happy with that, but you weren’t. You never expected to be replaced so easily. This had been your life, your purpose, for so long.
They were your flock. So you stayed, and you watched.
With little else to do, you found yourself counting them more. Over and over again, making sure all were accounted for. Anything to pass the time, anything to keep you awake.
You never used to have an issue with that, but these days you were catching yourself nodding off more and more.
It hadn’t escaped you that counting sheep might not have been the best solution to that, but it was better than nothing.
It was on one such occasion that it happened. You should’ve known better than to let yourself settle down, but you were just so tired, and the warm sun-dappled grass so inviting.
When your eyes opened next you were staring into hers.
striking yellow irises and slanted pupils gazing down at you, as though you were a poor lost lamb she’d just taken in.
As far as she was concerned, you were.
It should've startled you, but any thoughts you might’ve had of moving were quickly dispelled by her fingers gently massaging your scalp.
Your head rested so comfortably in her lap, it just felt right. This was your purpose, this was your flock, and soon you'd fit right in.
