Where's Winsley

My friend Marian lives in Brooklyn. She has a sophisticated city sheep named Winsley. When he's not going to The Met, dreaming of cupcakes in the Brooklyn botanical gardens, dressing up for Halloween, or making aesthetic observations, he relaxes at home in his gravy dish with Marian's dog Finny, who may actually be a wolf.

Recently, Winsley went missing. All the livestock in Mongolia make it a likely place to hide, so I asked around the animal crowd, hoping to find him.

I asked these sheep if they'd seen him, but they wouldn't give me the time of day.

These domestic goats said they hadn't seen him and hurried on their way.

Wild goats have more time on their hands; we talked about the weather, but still no Winsley.

These little piggies went to market, and they went wee, wee, wee all the way home. But they didn't have much else to say.

This dog wanted a pen-pal to improve his English, so I gave him Finny's address.

I invited this camel in for tea and sugar lumps, and he told me he had heard tell of a citified sheep doing research on the possible uses of yak DNA in hair regrowth formulas somewhere in the south.

He offered me a ride, but camels stink, so I took a horse instead.

And there I found Winsley, who had done a bit too much research on himself. He'll be home as soon as he finds an antidote.