Once upon a sheep lived a sheeptick named SinBad. SinBad came by his name quite honestly because he was an expert in sin and had a reputation for being bad, ever so bad!

Sinbad’s occupation was bloodsucking and he had learned his trade as well as any tick had ever learned it. But it may come as a surprise to you to learn, however, that SinBad was not your run-of-the-wool sheep tick because if there was anything that SinBad hated was the taste of blood. In fact, he had such an aversion to the taste of blood that if he were to ever get a single drop on his tongue, he would fall out in the floor and go into a violent phobia attack which later became known as the “blood-aversion syndrome”for which there is no known cure.

Consequently, since ticks require blood to survive, SinBad had to figure out how he could accomplish his calling as a sheep tick without going through the normal procedure that bloodsucking requires.

In case you are not aware of it, sheep ticks are astute observers of sheep. They can spot a healthy sheep with rich red blood flowing through their veins from pastures away. And if there is one thing that sheep ticks know how to do is how to climb on the back of a sheep, securely position themselves in a saddle of wool and ride and suck a sheep for all the wool and/or blood they are worth.

Sheep ticks learn the ways of sheep very quickly. All they have to do is hang on, ride, suck and listen. It doesn’t take a real intelligent tick to figure out how dumb sheep are. A sheep will believe anything they are told that isn’t true and hardly anything that is.

For those of you who may doubt such a statement, consider this. The Good Shepherd has told His sheep over and over again that their life is contained in their blood and to steer clear of bloodsuckers. Yet, all a sheeptick has to do is appeal to a sheep’s sentimental nature and the sheep is easily convinced that one or two little ticks, who have to have blood to survive, won’t make even a tiny dent in their blood supply. So being sympathetic and do-gooders at heart, most sheep will allow a sheeptick to climb on their backs and stick his tiny straw into their veins and draw blood out until they are so full they are about to pop--not the sheep, but the tick, that is. Now, if that is not dumb, I don’t know what is. And if you question them on the wisdom of what they are doing, they will quickly retort, “What’s a little blood! Anyway, it’s my blood and I will do with it what I please! “ They quickly throw aside the warning of the Good Shepherd and go about their merry, bloodless way.

Why, I have actually seen a sheep so bloodless that they resemble a wooless sheep, yet they seem to think they are in fit condition. running to to the shearers to be sheared.

But, let’s get back to Sinbad. Since SinBad couldn’t bear the taste of blood, he had to come up with an alternate plan and fast! He pondered and pondered until one day, like a bolt of lightening out of the blue, it came to him. He would have to have a substitute substance that would keep him alive just as well as blood does. Preferably green because green was SinBad’s favorite color.

As all of you know, sheep live among humans.and some times even think they are human. In fact, shepherds who tend sheep are about as human as you can get. Now, SinBad, being the shrewd tick that he was, noticed the sharp contrast between the life of a sheep and a shepherd.

Sheep were forced to go out and eat grass off the ground while the shepherd ate steak off a table with shiny silk tablecloths on it. Humans also had an aversion to blood. The ate meat that had all the blood drained out of it. It tasted much better that way. In fact when SinBad made the transition from blood to steak, his motto became ”Eat steak, don’t suck blood!”

Another sharp contrast between sheep and shepherds was that sheep had a horrific body odor because of all that heavy wool they carried around for months in the sweltering heat. But shepherds had a beautiful aroma about them because they took baths and splashed sweet-smelling stuff on their skins. As any sheep tick knows, there are times when it is difficult to get their straw into the sheep because of their heavy wool and foul odor.

Sheep just walk around all day with their dirty matted wool stinking to high heaven. So much so that it causes constant nausea to many of the more sensitive sheepticks and it makes bloodsucking a very distasteful job.

In comparing the lifestyles of the sheep and the shepherd, it can be ascertained that the shepherds ALWAYS live in comfortable ranch houses with all the luxuries of life. They not only EAT steak off of a table, but they bath in hot water, have lights to light their way after dark, sleep on beds with comfortable mattresses that are covered with ticking (not to be confused with ticks) while the sheep are crowded into the fold at night and forced to sleep on damp, cold ground. Oh, there are a few spots where hay and straw has been spread, but the goats being as aggressive as they are always get to these resting places first and stake their claim. Most sheep just had to make the most of the circumstances which isn't very much.

There was no such thing as a shower stall or a bathroom - hence the fold always smelled as foul as an outhouse. There is no electricity, running water - there is just sheep, more sheep, and more sheep...oh, and muck! It is as plain as a tick on a sheep’s nose who was the better off.

But the question was, how was SinBad going to make this transition? How was he going to convince even a dumb sheep that a blood-sucking tick was anything more than a blood-sucking tick.

Well, it just happened that one of SinBad’s strong points was convincing sheep. One of his most effective methods was flattery. Anyone that knows anything about sheep knows their susceptibility to flattery, especially in matters concerning intelligence. I suppose that if you were a sheep and you had always been called “dumb” and “foolish”, you would be susceptible to flattery too. Why, telling a sheep how wise they were was an instant guarantee of getting sheep to do what you want them to do. It was as easy as taking candy out of a baby’s mouth or shearing wool off of a sheep. All a tick had to do was tell a sheep she was smart and beautiful and you would have her eating out of your hand. Even the wild and woolly goats couldn’t resist being told they were smart enough to be shepherds.

SinBad recalls one goat that fell for his line so quickly that he had all the sheep and other goats corralled in the fold preaching to them after the shepherd’s call for them to come out in the pasture for breakfast. The sheep would sit mesmerized by his smooth words especially the ones that made them feel special, part of an elite group. The shepherd finally would have to send in the sheep dogs to drive the sheep out of the fold. And if that wasn’t bad enough, as soon as the shepherd was out of sight, the newly self-appointed shepherd would call them all together again in the pasture and start calling their attention to the fact that they deserved better treatment than what the old shepherd was providing them. He would point out how luxurious the ranch was as opposed to the fold, how they were being used and merchandised for their wool so the shepherd could eat steak and enjoy the finer things in life. It got so bad that when the sheep would not respond to the shepherd’s call and he sent the dogs in for them, they would attack the dogs who would run back to the shepherd yelping to high heaven with big tuffs of hair pulled from their hides by the teeth of rabid sheep.

They would call the shepherd terrible names, such as hireling, wolf and a number of other unsavory terms. “No more wool for you, you merchandising wool-gatherers!” He would have to round up all the other hirelings and go into the fold and drag them out into the pastures and then feed them delicacies to win their affections back again.

However things continued to deteriorate with all the new found self-appointed teachers expounding upon all the injustices that when the shepherd had to be away from one fold to attend to another, he would have to hire other shepherds (and/or hirelings) to tend to his flock while he was away. This had its disadvantages also as we shall see later. Now, back to SinBad.

Realizing the sentimentality of sheep, especially the ewes, he started observing all the ewes very closely to find the best candidate to assist him in the transition that he was determined to make. Finally, after careful scrutiny, he found the perfect ewe - Sally Sheepish. Sally was one of the heartiest ewes in the flock. Her wool was thick and luxurious and her sheepishness made her the most appealing ewe in pastures far and wide. SinBad quickly saw that she was the perfect specimen to utilize because while she was beautiful and appealing, she was also very stupid, silly and shy.

One day when Sally was sunning on the sheep walk, SinBad pulled himself up to his most commanding height and approached Sally as she lay on a soft mound of earth.

“Good day to you, Queen Sally!”

Sally, surprised, looked around to see what appeared to be a sheep tick - the strangest sheep tick she had ever seen. He was round and roly poly with an enormous cowboy hat perched on his head which seemed to be his entire body. He was sporting a plaid shirt with bluejeans, leather belt, and cowboy boots with long sharp spurs on them. Man, for a tick, he was really decked out!

“My, my, what have we here or rather WHO have we here?”

“Queen Sally, SinBad, the Queen’s retainer at your service!”

“Well, I am please to meet you, SinBad, but I am no Queen.. I am just a humble ewe like all the rest.”

“Not the Queen? Oh, I don’t believe that for a minute. You certainly are humble, but not at all like the rest. Never! You are from a royal line as any observer would instantly recognize. Your royal heritage is reflected in every aspect of your sheepish bearing. No one would dispute the fact that you are far superior in every way to all the ewes in this fold put together. You may not know you are a Queen, but a man connoisseur of sheep such as myself who has wined and dined off of, I mean, with royalty all my life knows a personage of royalty such as yourself when I see one.

“Personage? Really Mr. SinBad, I am just a sheep. And man, I would have sworn you were a tick.”

“Just a sheep! I never want to hear you utter such a personal insult against yourself again. From now on, you will be Queen Sally to me because I know a Queen when I meet one. But obviously, you haven’t seen many men. Tick! Tick! That really hurts down to my cowboy boots. Here I am, one of the most intelligent, resourceful men on the face of this earth and ewe liken me to a tick! I am devastated!

“Sally looked at SinBad and immediately knew she had wounded her new-found admirer and she became confused as how to lift up the spirit of this man who looks so much like a tick.

“SinBad, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know I would never intentionally hurt a man. But you know...you do in many ways resemble a tick.

SinBad looked at Sally with this stricken look on his face and in a very sorrowful voice said, “Oh Queen Sally, I know that I resemble a tick, but a man cannot tell His maker how to fashion him, can he? There are men who resemble bears, foxes, dogs and a thousand other things. But no, I had to resemble a tick. A cruel cross to bear is what it is. How would you feel if you resembled a tick?

“Oh, SinBad, how can I ever make it up to you?