This is Bob. Meet Bob. Bob is leaving us soon. But then again, he is not leaving. Because we know about his departure. Somehow if you anticipate something, the impact can be less. Bob thought about the last time Potamotrygorgeous got pierced for example. The piercer counted down from three. Two. One. And now for Bob we count down.


Bob wanted to take a couple of last looks around his place before he went. That’s the beauty with knowing when you leave. All that time before that departing time becomes extra special. Like it counts double. So we don’t count double. Five. Five. While Bob is counting double, he feels this mixture of proud and sad. Proud and humble and excited. And sad. Proud and humble and excited because of all these Christmas cards, that just keep coming. What did we deserve this for? So much sheep love! Sad a bit because he’s gonna miss that. Four. Four.


But as somesheep once said: something’s got to end. Something’s got to start. And by leaving us, Bob’s opening up to a bunch of opportunities, possibilities, and all things in life ending with ‘ies’ (except lies of course).


Potamotrygorgeous? Do you think that I can hang in a bag in America too? It’s so much fun!


Or hide in a bag?


Or travel along in a bag?


I hope that where I travel to it is nice. And more: that I will learn more words for the noun ‘nice’, like subtle, delicate, pleasant, delightful, enjoyable. And I hope to teach them at least one Dutch word, for which the whole world does not have a translation: gezellig.


For it is just ‘gezellig’ to ride the bike with Potamotrygorgeous, goin’ places, you know, not caring about what people think if they see a herder with a sheep. It reminds me of when I was younger, the days when Potamotrygorgeous would tell about childhood times, where Potamotrygorgeous was a little sheep also, and rode along in a bag. And when you have a bike, you can ride yourself to anywhere!


For example to see a giant dog.


And you can ride yourself to the local garden center, where they already have all this Christmas stuff.


Where you can pretend to be somesheep else and walk in actual boots.


Where you can pretend to be a dog and lie in a superduperfluffy basket.


Where you can pretend to be an eh.. and sit in a eh.. something made of eh..


Where you can pretend to be a snowmäh!


And where you can pretend to live in the smallest of houses.


Or at least pretend to look at the smallest of houses..


Yes. When you stay young, regardless of your age, you can pretend everything. You can even pretend to ride that bike, in your memories, in your dreams, even when you are actually flying to America soon. Counting down. Three. Three.