Goodnight Edna. It was the right decision. I know that. The vet came and she agreed there were no miracle cures and it was time. Edna went to sleep in my arms and she will rest in pain-free peace.

I shan’t forget Edna. She was one amazing lady.

Floss and I first met Edna and Madge, her daughter, in January 2020 wandering on the hill road looking out of place and starving. Hill sheep survive fairly well in winter while Edna and Madge stuck out as very obviously not hill sheep. They were emaciated. I asked around and was quickly given permission to take them.

Apparently both sheep had been dumped with their ear tags cut out – I would like to put on record there is a special place in Hell waiting for the person who did that. It was obvious that Edna was a caddy (tame bottle-fed sheep) who had probably out-lived her useful purpose and was thrown out to die in the harsh environment of the hill in a Shetland winter. Someone knows who she and her daughter were.

Anyway, when Floss and I went with food to work out the logistics of moving the sheep off the hill and take them home, Edna immediately came up and put her front hooves on my shoulders, gazed into my eyes and willed me to take her and her daughter away. If sheep could communicate, she jolly well did that day. I could not refuse her. She needed me.

So they came home, put on weight and joined my little flock. They have stayed here ever since. For five years Edna has told me she has three breakfasts, yes please and thank you, with possibly a fourth. Her determination as well as a huge amount of wanting to live was what got her through.

My thoughts now are with Madge who I thought would never cope with this. But, at the moment, she has joined the rest of the sheep and seems fairly calm about the situation. I will keep a good eye on her.

I will miss Edna. She has taken a piece of my heart with her.

A photo from better days