Chapter Text
✿ Spring, Mossy Bottom Farm
Life in the countryside had always been known as a quiet one. No constant loudness, no crowds, no trace of the ever-present chaos in the city. Just…peace, far away from any trouble.
Bitzer had lived in Mossy Bottom Farm enough to know that was all a lie.
Where should he start? There were the never-ending tasks, his human and his thousand hobbies he often had to be saved from, and the animals weren't any better, at all.
The checklist in his paws and the blue cord with a whistle that always hung around his neck were his armor to deal with that, and the eye bags? The consequence. Life in a farm was exhausting if you were the second-in-command since young.
But nothing a good sheepdog couldn’t handle, of course. If anything, all the chaos had sharpened his instincts over the years, and now he was prepared for even the weirdest of events.
That one pink-haired old lady - or ‘the Granny’ as they liked to call her - visiting to talk to the Farmer? Uncommon, but he didn’t bat an eye. Him getting the order of taking care of the animal that was inside her car? Surprising, yeah, but he wouldn’t risk her swinging her purse at him for questioning it.
What happened after the humans went into the farmhouse, however, was not something Bitzer could’ve ever expected.
The car door opened, revealing a sheep with its head wool slicked back, and wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses. It was a small sheep, for what he guessed was his age. The clothes didn’t fit and hung loose around his body. It made him look…more cute than cool.
Still, even if he wasn't another dog, the way the stranger had his hooves in his pockets, eyes hidden behind dark glass as if he had no care in the world, made Bitzer want to make a good impression.
Noticing himself staring a little too much, he shook his head, then coughed in his fist to call the sheep's attention. Bitzer straightened and extended the paw that wasn't occupied by the checklist, giving a quick whuff to present himself as the one in charge.
Brown orbs peeked over the glasses to look at him. After a moment, the sheep shook his paw with a bleat and a soft smile of courtesy. Bitzer tried to gesture at the field where he should go, but the guest didn’t notice as he turned to take something out of the car: an old-looking satchel.
He brought stuff with him? That could only mean...
Despite his uncaring attitude, the sheep still ended up looking at the field. Big, green and full of grass, as any farm should have it. Taking off his glasses, he slowly walked towards the stone wall, eyes widening as if he had never seen something like it before. Bitzer arched his brow at this, following his gaze.
He hadn't paid attention before, with so many things to do lately, but the sun was hitting the grass nicely that day. Butterflies fluttered above it, some resting delicately over the blades, while others choose the flowers.
The sunglasses returned to his eyes as soon as Bitzer got closer.
“Baa.” The sheep offered a relaxed compliment, leaning his forearms on the stone wall.
Bitzer chuckled at the flattery. He stood up straight, paws behind his back like a guard proud of his job. The field always looked nice after he finished working on it, of course it would leave anyone perplexed.
“Ruff ruff, arf arf-” Before Bitzer could stop it, the ramble about his well-done job rolled off his tongue. He unfolded his comically long checklist, detailing what steps he followed to get such a perfect grass.
The sheep blinked at him.
Bitzer was quick to cover his mouth. Here he was talking so much and he didn't even know if their guest spoke dog! He whuffed and pointed between them, asking just to make sure.
Everyone on the farm understood each other, to a degree. Even with so many animal languages there, years have helped them to learn a thing or two. Charades were useful as well. It wasn't that way for all creatures of course, perhaps this sheep was from a farm without a sheepdog. That would be a disastrous one for sure, but it was possible.
The answer to his question was a so-so gesture with a hoof. Good enough.
What happened next though, Bitzer couldn't quite describe it. After a pause, the sheep looked at him up-and-down, then smirked for a reason far from his sheepdog knowledge.
“Baa baa?” Resting one cheek on his hoof, the sheep's voice came out smooth, with a playful and teasing edge. Trying to get to know him better already?
Bitzer stared, completely puzzled. He needed to know to help him settle there, for what other reason could he be asking...?
But before he could tell him that, the rapid sucking of a pacifier broke the silence. Timmy, the lamb of the Flock, stood on four legs not far from them. He approached the wall, blinking curiously at the stranger on the other side. The sheep in black stared for a moment before he waved with an amused 'hey'.
The lamb's mother wasn’t far.. She got closer, the rest of the Flock following her and narrowing their eyes at the outsider. Territory matters were common when new animals arrived. The guest tensing, however, that defiant look as he stood tall with a raised chin…it showed no good intentions. Bitzer got ready to interfere in case of a fight.
Bur nothing happened. The twins rushed to get in front of everyone, vigorously shaking both of his front hooves. While they all returned to their respective grazing spots, Timmy's Mom tilted her head towards the field, welcoming him to join them. The message seemed to take a moment to get across though, as the new sheep hesitated. A shy one perhaps? With that outfit? That definitely would make him more cute than cool.
Bitzer hummed thoughtfully. His paw looked under his hat to get a pencil. Just as he started drawingoin his checklist, the objects were taken away by two fast hooves. The stranger scribbled something and gave them back, shooting him a wink before hopping over the wall to join the rest.
Bitzer blinked. Slowly, he looked down at what had been written. Bitzer had doodled a simple sheep in the list. while the stranger had added a jacket and sunglasses to it. Only because the addition was accurate he let pass the very rude decision of messing with his checklist.
That detail aside, he caused no trouble, so Bitzer could say he considered the newbie as a rather mysterious but overall nice sheep. A non-stressing addition that his life could appreciate.
—
Bitzer took that back. The guy was the rudest, most disrespectful and inconsiderate sheep he had ever met.
It was one thing to roll his eyes at him when he stopped him and Shirley from picking veggies from the garden. Rookie mistake, nothing new. But using Bitzer's dog instincts against him to do it anyway? That was the lowest blow you could deal to him.
Bitzer's focus was on his flock, always was, how was he supposed to predict that the apparently quiet sheep would be the one to distract him with a frisbee? How come the Flock followed the guy's plan without a drop of hesitation? The betrayal!
Not only was the vegetable garden almost empt nowy, but the humans could come back at any moment and not a single sheep was in sight. Growling and cursing all the way, Bitzer followed his nose to find them.
Indeed, when he opened the barn doors, he was witness all the sheep happily enjoying the veggies. Bitzer could only glare at the nerve the guy had to offer him a carrot.
Blowing his whistle loudly quickly got them all outside, returning the stolen food as they should. All except the new sheep, who only arched a brow as the dog kept pointing at the field. Strange that he didn't seem to identify what the whistle was for, but Bitzer was too angry to care about the reason right now.
The humans left the house not long after. Though the veggies were back in place, enough leftovers had escaped the Flock's hooves for the Farmer to spot them. Bitzer found himself having to lower his ears at getting scolded for a crime he didn't commit. He glared at the real culprit. At least he had the decency to go back to all four and hide his jacket and sunglasses before the humans saw him.
Whatever problem the dog and man had wasn't the Granny’s concern. She approached the small sheep, her stare behind her round glasses insistent, as if she wanted to tell him something. The sheep awkwardly tucked his head into what he could of his wool.
Then, with no words muttered, she patted his head before walking towards her car, raising her purse in warning the moment the Farmer tried to open the door for her.
Sadly, this confirmed it: the troublemaker sheep was going to stay.
With all that done, the Granny simply drove away, leaving a new member on the farm...and another source of stress for the sheepdog of said place.
Taking the checklist from Bitzer's paw, the Farmer was about to write something when he noticed the already-added doodle.
“Huh?” He mumbled, his gaze inspecting the newest animal.
The sheep stepped back, the defiant look returning. He lowered his head while maintaining eye contact, stamping his front hoof in the grass once. A sign of mistrust.
That was normal for new sheep, but not so soon. Flight response was supposed to come first.
The Farmer wasn’t affected. He looked at the list again before releasing a long ‘ooh’ and a laugh, his finger tapping the doodle. Drawing a jacket and sunglasses wasn’t how Bitzer would note down an animal was aggressive, but the man seemed to interpret it that way.
With all settled, he patted the dog’s head one last time and returned to the house. Bitzer momentarily smiled at the attention before he did a double take, squinting at his checklist. Right there, over the doodle, was a word Bitzer had accidentally covered with his thumb earlier. He arched a brow as he read: Shaun.
Not a number, not a nickname, but a name the sheep seemed to remember on his own. Not to mention the attire, attitude and how he arrived with the Granny of a people. A mystery indeed.
Bitzer looked at the rebel animal, who was now digging into a bush to retrieve his hidden stuff. As if nothing had happened, he fixed his head wool back in place, put his sunglasses back over his eyes, and finished by sliding back into the leather jacket, popping up the collar. When he noticed the staring, he put his hooves in his pockets and shot him a relaxed smirk.
It may sound crazy, but at that moment Bitzer swore he could predict that besides a mystery, this 'Shaun' guy was going to be another gray hair on his fur very soon.