Caretaker

Leslie could not explain the 

Disappearance of sheep.

Peaceful settling down

Night time quiet

Only some lambkins mewing briefly.

Counted thirty-seven.

Next morning 36 or 35.

Small bits of bloody mess

On some rocks.

Searched the grounds...

No prints of man

Or large beast.

Same routine but

Disaster visited.

Next night a resolution

To remain wide-eyed.

Almost lost it twice.

But stiffed it through.

Two thirty AM.

Snuffling, shuffling

Collie Idlewild

Up the chair

Stretching up the wall

Right forepaw pushing

At the sash. GONE.

She knew that her

Hiking after him would

Raise alarm.

So simply to await the post-meal 

Return in same fashion.

Would things be passive?

Ready to sleep?

Or would culprit

Retaliate in

Snarls and blood

Throat high?

That, Friends is the 

Question of the Tale. 

You decide.

Brother Nate down the Hall

Has been wakened...

No scream, no clue

Silence.

His muscles ache 

From long day's work. 

(with thanks for a sheep dog story from Ernest Thompson Seton. Wully, The Story of a Yaller Dog.)

(Note: Do you remember that high school short story, The Lady or the Tiger? Har har. And the bloodied debate that followed? Which door? Which fate? Teacher trying to keep the peace. Another doozer of a tale in class, Leiningen Versus the Ants)