by Julie Bell

Created on: October 27, 2008

"What?!"

Dad screwed up his sweat-streaked, sun-peeled face and tilted his ear towards me. I cupped my hands around my mouth, sucked in a lungful of air and

"I SAID, CUP OF TEA'S READYYY!"

Dad cut the motor in mid-sentence and went cross-eyed as my high-pitched wail shattered the silence.

"All right, all right! No need to yell yer head off!"

I flopped.

"Yeah well I HAD to cause of the noise of the blimmin' lawn-mower!"

"Yeah, yeah," grumped Dad as he trudged up to the house. He wrenched off his gum boots and made for the nearest comfortable chair like a heat-seeking missile.

After a strong cup of tea, Dad was relaxed enough to indulge in a good whinge. "It's like The Day of the Triffids out there! We'll get a lamb. It can keep the grass down."

Any addition to the family menagerie was gleefully received by us kids. The lamb came, duly ate the long grass and promptly grew long legs. Mum christened him Loftus Lofty for short.

One day after school, Pete and Colm charged into the house from down the back yelling, "Lofty's out and he's gone over to the oval!"

Everyone dashed outside and provided the neighbours with the spectacle of watching us chase our fleet-footed pet around the War Memorial Park. Our efforts were, as usual, completely disorganized but most enthusiastic as we ran and yelled orders simultaneously.

"Go round! Go round! Sneak up on him from round the side!"

"Head him off! Don't let him get away oh NO! Go for yer life, Colm!"

"Try'n head him back this way. Try'n corner him!"

"Good! Good! Close in, everybody! Watch him! Watch him see if you can pounce on im from there!"

"Tackle! TACKLE!"

"AAArrrGGGhhh! Can somebody HELP me?"

"Grab im! GRAB HIM!"

"Got im! We GOT him!"

The heaving but still struggling Lofty was push-me-pull-you-ed home and delivered in through the gate.

"How d'ya reckon e got out?"

"Someone must've left the gate open!"

"Did YOU leave the gate open?"

"Nooo!"

"There might be a hole in the fence!"

We went to see. The fence was pretty ramshackle. But there was no place where even a crafty sheep like Loftus could break out. We eyed Lofty's odd, goatish legs.

"D'ya reckon he could've jumped?"

Our suspicions were soon confirmed. Lofty demonstrated his fence hurdling ability with tiresome regularity and the cry, "Lofty's out again!" grew all too familiar. One day, as he was fleeing the usual horde of yelping kids, he spied the lush pasture of Zigliani's place, charged straight through the open gate and was soon chomping away like he had every right to be there.

It was

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>