The primary side effect of a shock received directly from the electric sheep fence charger seems to be to set the mind racing. “What was that LIKE?!” my mind wants to know, scrambling for comparisons as I stand still, re-sensing arms, shoulders, heart. A punch in the chest, Cuban espresso, getting horrible news, a shot of smooth whiskey and stumbling into mad lust all have their place in that inventory. My mind skates off to Pavlovian inquiry — am I now less inclined to bottle-feeding lambs, maternal instinct, keeping sheep in the first place, going out in windstorms? Not in the slightest, suggesting that Pavlovian influence must either involve greater wattage, more extended contact or repeated exposure.
Not going there (at least until next time) but still, is this not what we seek in our days, the shock that keeps us awake, aware, alive to the amazing? I go inside and pour a second, now superfluous cup of coffee. And go to work, smiling secretly.