The Back End

I have a bum fascination. I catch myself checking-out the rears of the wooly beasts in the community. It’s indicative of age, health, and happiness.

The dead sheep in the neonatal room was Baby Stephen’s mother. Her back end was disgusting: matted, crimson brown, and rotting. It is obvious she was sick and laying on her hind quarters during the last part of her life.

On the other end, Baby Stephen could use baby-wipes. Infant lambs produce mustered colored waste that runs down their tail and back legs as their digestive systems are not yet fully developed.

Teenagers have the most appealing tushes. Full of energy, these youth keep a clean bottom by prancing around, rarely taking a seat to soil their fuzzy fanny.

As sheep mature, they display various stages of dingle-berries. The more senior the sheep, the more the berries grow into pinecones.

In the nursery, I watch lambs nurse. This is certainly my favorite rear view. There are few things cuter than the blur of a small white tail as it flutters in happiness from underneath its mother’s coat.

It is evening. I’m feeling as filthy as a middle-aged sheep (mercifully minus the dingle berries). I walk back to the house to clean up.

The shower is less than two feet in diameter and enclosed by a curtain that characteristically does not keep the water off the floor. In a novice small-shower move, I drop the soap; the shower curtain attaches itself to my wet body and run-off spills everywhere.

I’m still ginning. After a month of sitting on my bum on the shower floor with my leg propped up on the bidet, hand washing with a hand towel, THIS now is glorious! I’m standing; I’m showering; and if I had a tail, it would be fluttering.