Awww....look who just got a haircut. I had one of those as a pet back on the farm, when I was a kid. Found his mother wandering alone in the desert, so I took her in.
The very next morning, she gave birth, then died. The baby almost died too, but I managed to save it. Raised him in a wood box in the kitchen. My brother named him Butch. Once you name an animal, you cannot eat them. We had a lot of fun playing with him. He'd always ram us. He never got old enough to grow horns though. His coat grew, and sheeps wool is tough like steel, and we couldn't afford (more like my dad was too cheap) to hire a sheep sheerer to cut his hair, and he was really getting too hot. One day, my sister went in his pen, and he rammed her against a wall. She didn't know how to handle him. My mom got upset, 'cause he supposedly almost killed my sister, so we had to sell him.
Sorry to jack your thread, Tyna.
"...Schnappster, half a joint o' ragweed...that's decent...now all we gotta do is find us some chicks..."