One cure for Dogs that worry sheep

We went on a double mission last week to Sas. and  Wales.We went to Frome in Somerset to bury Alice Loughlin ,my wife's last surviving aunt and did so.The Catholic ceremony is different in England than here.At least the one I was at is,in that a number of Hymns are sung during the Funeral Mass by the congregation.Nor is a decade of the Rosary recited at the graveside as is the norm here.Herself and myself said a  Decade anyhow,
The second leg of the mission was to visit the grave of my grandparents in a place near Cardigan in Wales called Pont Hirwaun,which as far as I can make out is the Welsh for the Bridge over the river Hirwaun.
We found it and the place is so small that Dunderry is Tokyo by comparison.I don't know who looks after the graveyard but it is very well kept.
Welsh is very much the spoken language in West Wales as far as I could see and and the writing on the grave was as follows:-
                                 Er  Cof  Annwyl
                                         am
                             Ianto Stephens

                              Pont Hirwaun
                         Hunodd Rhag. 16.1976 .
                               Yn 76 oed. 
                          Can eto cwrdd.
                            Herfyd Dewi ei fab
                         Bu fawr yn Iwerddyn
                         Ion .25.1982.Yn.52 oed.

                           Hefyo Maggie ei briod
                           Bu farw yn Salisbury
                            ym mlwyddyn 2000,
                                  Yn 99 oed. 
It refers to my grandfather Ianto (Evan),Father David (Dewi)  and grandmother Maggie ,although I am sure that her Christened name was Sofia.
We placed a wreath on the grave and said a few prayers.
The thought has recently struck me that I have much to be humble about as both my parents were born into houses made of stone ,which are now extanct and where life was very hard and tough. 
They were great people to survive at all and to be able to rear us was a miracle in itself.
This background probably explains my indignation at the exploitation of ordinary people by the uncaring and powerful.T'wasn't off the genetic road I licked it.
This area is primarily agricultural. and cattle manure and slurry  were being spread all over the shop.
The roads are very narrow but well marked ,even the least significant ones ,but there are practically no soft margins to pull in if you break down.In that event you would have major tail backs,I imagine.
The Welsh language is given prominence on all road signs and official signage and the people are hugely proud of it and use it all the  time.The antagonism of many native Irish to their own language is hard to understand in this context.Maybe it is the case that the genetic make up of the  Irish whose ancestors " took the soup"and effectively renounced their own traditions to help the Crown forces subdue Ireland  over many centuries lives on here more strongly than in Wales.I just don't understand the difference in attitude.
One thing that struck me is the fact that sheep throughout rural Wales and England graze right up to the very edge of the towns and villages without worry.You just would not see that here as the certainty of attacks by dogs would be inevitable.
The explanation is simple enough.In Wales in any event you either own a house dog or a working dog.A farmers dog is a working dog.Owners of house doge keep them at home and under control at all times,usually.
If a dog is caught worrying sheep ,without killing or biting them ,it may be that the  farmer would tightly tie a piece of twine around his goolies and attach a number of empty tin cans to the twine and let him find his way home.A ring of sheep shit around his neck would let the owner know what it was all about.
Were the owner foolish enough to let the dog stray again and if the dog didn't learn his lesson then the dog would be shot without compunction and the owner would have to fully compensate the farmer.
It works.
More anon.