That sheepish creature is horrible. Just look into his eyes and you’ll know why I say ‘horrible’. Look clearly, you would see a wolf in him. I swear to God I have seen one! Don’t mock me. People say that he hadn’t eaten one single sheep in his life. But how on earth! I am confused. Okay, wait, let me tell you the whole story. 

A wolf has come to our village last year. He lives among us since then. Yes don’t be astonished. At the time he arrived, everybody got scared but nobody intended to shoot him. He proved to be different; he looks like a wolf, eats like a wolf, howls like wolf, but acts like a sheep! I still can’t understand this formula.

Until his arrival, I had been believeing since childhood that George, my aged wicked neighbor, is an ideot. I heard him once making noises from his mouth and wishing to have his throat cut, if he hadn’t seen a wolf mating with a sheep. “How dare he utters such crap! I shall deal with this foolish old carcass in my own way and one day I’ll fulfill his wishes.” I responded quietly.

I could’nt bare seeing that creature roaming the houses, waiting for housewives to throw crumbs of food to him. They called him ‘Sheeppy’. The old man is a fool. That afternoon when I was on my way to cut some wood from the nearby forest, it happened that I came across him. Our eyes met — my heart jumped; Oh God! That creature is nothing but a mere wolf– with white wool? and sheepish face?!

From that moment onwards, I felt something different towards that creature. He looks lovely; one of the cutest wolves indeed. “I shall feed you and wash your fur regularly good boy” I said to him. I don’t think he heard me. In fact, why should I hate a peaceful creature? I think George is hiding something from me. Did he really see a wolf mating with a sheep one day? Anyway, I shouldn’t hate him only because he lacks that distinguished ‘wolfness’ in wolves.

Um, but something weird has always made me hesitant about that wolf (sheep). As if he knows how I feel towards him, believe me or not. He behaves differently in front of me, as last week, when I was offering him some grass –I thought wolves don’t eat grass– he refused to go away after having his meal, insisting to jump on me. He showed me his teeth, I got scared, I shouted at him and ran into my house, leaving him howling from behind.

George assured me the following day that he sees “nothing unnatural” in my description of the wolf’s behavior. I know he is lying. He wants me to be killed. “That’s the way an eerie sheep plays with people, my dear” he said. Well, but I hate playing, I hate eerie sheep, and I hate hearing him saying “my dear”!

I’m sure this wolf will kill somebody one day. I swear. From now on I’m not going to leave my house; let me rot inside! I shall not go out, and let people continue whispering from outside “he’s insane”. I can hear George’s voice among them. No doubt he wishes me to be killed.