King of the Prairie : In 100 Words

I name my sheep with such endearments as Durling, Honeycomb, and Tigerheart. I feed them sweetmeats from the trough of my tunic and carry them on my shoulders when they go lame. While they graze, I lay on my back in grasses so tall as to block out the warm, mid-afternoon light, and curious lambs nuzzle me from a dreamless sleep. As the sun sinks low over the western rim, I herd my flock to a nearby watering hole and watch cloud shadows scuttle across green hills. For the main, I am content here. A real king of the prairie.