The car auction organizers had set up shop at the largest available space in town: an animal sale facility. On any other day, people might purchase farm animals for slaughter and meat production—animals like Biscuit.

This lamb had been with his mom and at least one younger brother in a barn stall at the back of the lot. Now that they were gone, only Biscuit remained—he was huddled alone in a corner and trembling with fear.

Tyler and her nephew were exploring the lot when they found the pint-sized sheep. “I could tell right off the bat that he was blind,” Tyler said.

The self-professed animal lover climbed right into his crate to take a closer look. She got down on his level and offered whatever comfort she could. “I sat down, and he got right in my lap. He knew that I was good.”

Tyler looked squarely at her nephew and said, “I’m not leaving here without this sheep.”

Her nephew was doubtful. “Your mom is not going to let you take home a sheep—you have no room!” he laughed.

But the family always took in any animals in need. And they had three acres and a barn back at home, so Biscuit would have a safe place to stay. All Tyler needed was a “yes” from her mom—and then from Biscuit’s owner. And she could tell by how quickly Biscuit cuddled her with trust that he’d be cool with this course of action, too.

Tyler got the owner’s number and her mom, Melissa, said that she could make the call. She learned Biscuit’s owner planned to send him to slaughter—but he was open to her taking him instead.

With that, Tyler scooped up her little “lap sheep,” hopped into her boyfriend’s truck, and took her new best friend home.

Over the next year, Biscuit and Tyler remained inseparable. “He was definitely her sheep,” Melissa recalled. “You could tell that he just adored her.”

Biscuit learned to navigate his new space and always stuck by Tyler’s side when they played. He also loved being brushed, snacking on apples, and lying out in the sun. “Biscuit, from day one, was the sweetest animal I’ve ever known in my life,” Tyler explained. “He’s very funny. He’s got quite the little snooty personality, which is great ‘cause so do I. When I was mad at my boyfriend, he was also mad at my boyfriend.”

Tyler would do anything to make the little guy happy. But sometimes, doing what’s best for the ones we love can also be the toughest choice to make.

Tyler spent as much time with Biscuit as she could—but there were still gaps to fill. She had school and unlike when “Mary had a little lamb,” Biscuit couldn’t follow her there.

She thought about getting a dog or perhaps another sheep to keep Biscuit company. But she was turning 18 soon and planned to move away from home. That wouldn’t be fair to Biscuit or any other animal friends. As much as she wished she could keep him forever, Tyler knew Biscuit needed other sheep for company—and that this meant finding him another home.

“I would just like for him to have a friend,” Tyler shared on the Instagram page she created for Biscuit. “I know he is very lonely when I am not with him.”

One of Biscuit’s top followers saw this post and shared his story with us. As we had space at our Acton Sanctuary—and are also home to other sheep whom Biscuit could befriend—we offered to take on his care.

After a tearful—yet hopeful—parting from his Colorado family, Biscuit joined our staff for the next leg of his journey. Our first stop was a large veterinary hospital: We needed to examine Biscuit’s eyes to determine the type of care he would need.

Doctors found that Biscuit had excess tissue around both eyes, so any tears or irritants they’d naturally expel would instead gather there. The buildup could cause anything from discomfort to infection. His doctors advised that we remove his left eye to prevent further damage. His right eye is okay for now but may need removal in the future.

Biscuit also has a neurological condition that can weaken his balance and coordination. As a result, he might tilt his head, circle about, or stumble while trying to find his place. This instability can make it harder for Biscuit to map out his surroundings. However, with a solid routine, he can learn what to expect—including lots of love and joy!

We started off slow. Biscuit spent his quarantine and recovery period in a cozy room in our shelter office, filled with several oversized stuffed animals to snuggle! He needed time to heal from his eye and neuter surgery—the latter is routine, as we do not breed here—and to ensure he was healthy enough to live with others. After a bit of circling, he began to find his way and quickly relaxed among his surrogate flock.

We added new stimuli little by little so as not to overwhelm him with too many changes. Our caregivers began with verbal cues, such as “Hey Biscuit, feed time!” so he’d learn to associate our updates with actions.

Each week—or longer period, depending on his progress—Biscuit’s care team built upon his retained skills. Soon, his cue for “halter time” accompanied a trip to the courtyard to graze. And once he’d grown more comfortable with that next step, we introduced a new variable: a friend.

Otto, a young sheep, has been living with Squid: a larger sheep who sometimes uses a wheelchair to get around. While they’re still good pals, Squid—aka “Hot Wheels”—zooms right past Otto during excursions with the rest of the flock. We wouldn’t want Otto to get hurt or feel left behind, so perhaps time with Biscuit—who’s more his size—might be fun for them both.

“Biscuit looks like he just won the lottery!” one of our caregivers later exclaimed. After sniffing and nudging the new sheep in his space—the first he’s come face to face with for at least a year—he kicked up his heels, bounced after his new playmate, and charged Otto with a few hearty headbutts. Though shyer Otto mostly kept to himself, he returned a few headbutts and is gradually taking more interest in his vivacious companion.

Our current plan, if Biscuit agrees, is to slowly introduce him to Otto’s space—and to full-time life among other sheep. Then, time will tell how we can best meet his needs and provide him with all the joy and comfort we can.

We attribute much of Biscuit’s progress to his detailed care plan: a collaboration between our Shelter and Research teams to promote his best quality of life possible. It’s a living document that will evolve with him—aligning his healthcare needs to his interests and personality to create a safe and happy customized Sanctuary environment.

For Sanctuary work only begins with rescue. It is a lifelong process (and promise) that aims to celebrate each animal as an individual. We rehabilitate, protect, and offer quality food, shelter, and medical care. But we also provide a supportive environment so they can choose to build and maintain loving relationships. To have fun. To be securely and fully themselves.

Biscuit is thriving because Tyler’s enduring love set him on this path. “He’s still my boy,” she said fondly. “He’s still my boy.”