Story-+Jack+by+William

 Jack He came to us in a box, a cardboard box. Dad pulled into the driveway more carefully than usual. We were waiting in anticipation to see the ‘thing’ in the box. The lamb pushed his head through the top of the folded cardboard.  We all said, “What should we name him?” Everyone disagreed at first, but then we decided to call him Jack, because when he arrived he sprung out of the box he was in. Just like a Jack in the box! For his first night we gave him a cosy rug to sleep on in the garage. Well that’s what we thought we would do. The problem was, he wouldn’t leave his box. So for his first night he slept on a comforting rug in his box. As Jack got older, he stole our hearts. I mixed and warmed his milk before I fed it to him. My sister Alex, also known as “the evil one” read him a book every night before she went to bed. The books seemed to make Jack smarter, not smart enough to do a rubix cube, but smart enough to realize that the fence we put up to keep him on the lawn was jumpable. He became a lamb Houdini. This became a reasonably big problem because we had to do ‘Lamb Poopie Pickup’ everyday on the pavement, such a fun task to do. Jack loved to play games with the balls in our back yard. He would roll soccer balls around. He would hit cricket balls with his head. He also loved to play tag with my sister and I. Our neighbors and friends loved to come over and play with Jack too. One day Jack didn’t feel like eating or playing, we were so worried. He could hardly stand up and his stomach was inflated just like a soccer ball. Luckily at the time that Jack got sick our uncle, who is a vet, was visiting. So he fed him green minty medicine and gave him an injection, we all hoped he would last the night. As I tried to go to sleep I felt nervous and sick in the stomach. The next morning, Jack slowly started to become livelier, and then soon he was back to his playful self. As Jack grew older, his muscles developed and he became faster. When he tried to play with you, he could be a little rough. When Jack played tag with us he did not tag us anymore, he rammed us like a bulldozer. Even when you went out to the washing line he would ram into you to say hello. Jack was becoming hard to play games with and very surprisingly difficult to feed. This is when we knew it was time. We drove back to our uncle, with Jack. He owned the farm that Jack originally came from. Dad opened the gates that lead to the place that would change Jack’s life. Jack stayed with us, he did not go near the other sheep. We put Jack into the neighboring paddock with all the other rams. We knew it was time to say goodbye. We left poor Jack to live his life. We contacted our uncle the next day to see how Jack was. He said that during the night he slept in the food trough because it was like his cardboard box. We all miss Jack but we all know that we will see him again one day. I remember Jack, I wonder if he still remembers me. <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">William Boyd, Calare Public School