Synzeugma

Synzeugma (sin-zoog’-ma): That kind of zeugma in which a verb joins (and governs) two phrases by coming between them. A synonym for mesozeugma.

My head was metaphorically furry, bleating sheepishly. I was a sheepaphile. I loved wool. Soft, luxuriant, furry, good smelling. I had a pet sheep named Bobby. Sometimes I called him Bobby Baa Baa. Sometimes I would dress up like Mary and he would follow me around our apartment. Sometimes I would dress up like Little Bo Peep. I pretended I had lost my sheep and Bobby would hide somewhere in the apartment. There was only one place to hide, so I would find him every time wedged in my closet. It was great fun.

I would try to take Bobby for a walk as often as I could, but it was hard. My neighbor had an Australian Sheep Dog. If he saw me and Bobby walk by, he would go berserk in the window until my stupid neighbor would let him out. The Sheep Dog’s name was Crikey, and no matter how loud and angrily my neighbor called him, Crikey would ignore him and crouch down on the sidewalk trying to “herd” Bobby. Bobby would bleat and paw the sidewalk as a warning. He’d give Crikey his best combat head butt. Crikey would roll over and play dead. Without a word, my neighbor Iggy would come outside, hand me a beer, and drag Crikey up the front steps and back into his apartment. This happens at least once a month. I think Iggy plans it this way. I wish he’d wear a shirt.

Then there was the “Wooly Bully,” a “mutant” sheep that lived in the woods adjacent to the park where we took our walks. On one of our walks, one day in late September, we were walking on a trail in the woods. We heard an extremely loud fart—almost like a tractor trailer truck air horn. Billy made a sound like he had never made before. It sounded more like “daa” than “baa.”

The Wooly Bully stuck its head out of the bushes. It had two big horns and a wooly jaw, just like in the song! Billy was going crazy bleating “daa, daa, daa.” Then I got it! Apparently the Wooly Bully was Billy’s estranged father. This made Billy an extremely rare cross-breed of sheep. I found out that the Wooly Bully wasn’t a mutant after all. He was a Tibetan Valley Sheep, bred for his wool and also to guard villagers against marauding Yetis. We’ll never know how the Wooly Bully got to the US. It could’ve been during the Great Tibetan Migration of 1902, when the Yaks stopped giving milk and the Tibetans faced starvation. Billy’s dad could be descended from those original Wooly Bullies who emigrated with the Tibetans.

Now, Billy visits “Wooly” once a week. They spend time butting each other and playing “Yeti Attack.” I play the Yeti and get knocked around pretty good when we play.

I was thinking about buying us a Yak. We could make Kumis and get drunk while we watch pro wrestling or Netflix. But, Yaks are hard to find in New York. Besides, I don’t know how I’d fit a Yak in the apartment along with Billy. So, I got Billy a tattoo of a Yeti on his ear to remind him of his heritage.

Definitions courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

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