1. Maizy. Of course. But particularly cute because her coat has been lovingly hand stripped. By me.
She no longer resembles a miniature highland cow. She now has portions of sleek, shiny, subtly brindled terrier outer coat. That would be from her border terrier mother.
Elsewhere about her person, however:
there are peculiar golden silky wispy bits which just refuse to be pulled out. They, no doubt, are part of the “travelling man” father’s heritage. Oh, and her tail is disproportionately bulbous because she won’t let me tug at it, not even for the freeze-dried liver treats.
2. The Manx Loaghtan sheep which may, so various sites inform me, occasionally grow six horns.
These three good-looking boys have only four horns apiece. Where on earth would another pair of horns actually fit on? And why, despite spending almost every summer of my first 14 years with family on the Isle of Man, do I not remember seeing such a beast? It’s an at-risk breed, which is sad, and makes me immediately wish to remove to the planned coastal retirement home and grow them in quantities along with other so-called “primitive” breeds. Like the seaweed-eating North Ronaldsay, for example.
3. The yarn of the above (Manx, not Orkadian):
I have 500g and am currently sifting through thousands of possible patterns on ravelry. None has yet leaped out as deserving to be knitted in this.
And moorit? According to
I’m glad I know that.