Through these fields of destruction, baptisms of fire, I witnessed your suffering, as the battle raged higher. And though they did hurt me so bad, in the fear and alarm, you did not desert me, my brothers in arms. -- Dire Straights, Brothers in Arms

The Thing About Sheepdogs

If you had a sheepdog who ripped the throat out of a sheep on the assumption it was really a wolf, you’d have it put down. The first time it happened.

If your sheepdogs mistook sheep for wolves on a regular basis, or even just did it, say, two or three times a year, you’d fire your dog trainer.

And no one would call you unreasonable. No one would demand apologies to the sheepdog’s family. No one would go on Fox News and describe the sheep’s death as an unavoidable tragedy where no one was to blame. No one would go digging up dirt on the sheep, or suggest that the sheep brought it on themselves by acting aggressively.

If it turned out that it was pretty much only ever the black sheep your sheepdogs mistook for wolves, no one would say that it wasn’t about color.

And if you decided to plant a tree in memory of the sheep, no one would vandalize it.

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