The rancher sprang to his feet at the sound of furious barking. What he saw made him go for his gun. Loading it and rushing outside, he glanced at the carnage in the sheep pen on his way past, following the dog. Down the hill, splashing across the creek, Rover was hot on the heels of a cougar, and the cougar had something white in its jaws.
Sammy grew into a fine young ram. He was a breed called Katahdin, and had hair rather than wool. We bought him a pair of ewes and started our flock with these three. When Sammy was two years old, he turned mean -- not with the ewes, but with people. For the next eight years, we couldn't turn our backs on him, and I was very sorry that I'd raised him as such a pet. He was beautiful, though.