In the story, the sheep, gunshot in the head, gets up and walks off.
There was no moral to that, just amazement.
Shit, the men said to each other. He turned around and she was just gone.
The sheep was shot, and bleeding. She was dazed and she would die, shaved for one last coat of wool and killed and cut up for meat, but she got up and walked out of the dank barn and into the light one last time.
She stood there, a stunned look in her ewe eyes, and she wasn’t going anywhere or running, wasn’t fighting death, but just standing in the sun before she died.
There was no point to the story, just surprise. It wasn’t a story about work and doing good work, wasn’t a story about eating and meat and the violence we all have to live with to live. It wasn’t a story about humans as sheep and there weren’t any bible quotes, Christ allusions or deeper meanings. The story just stood there, like an expletive, like a one word explanation of everything. Just that. Just the story. Just damn!
She was shot in the head, assumed dead and bleeding, but she got up and went off into the green grass and stood for a moment in peace.