This is about a lamb.
A really cute black lamb.
His mother abandoned him
(for that decision she was labeled an unfit mother and put up for "auction").
Without mother's milk, this lamb grew up small and sensitive with flat, stunted horns. The bigger lambs bullied him.
The keepers bottle-fed him, so he was accustomed to humans. 
Almost every day, hikes took me by his pen. 
As I passed the fence, he frolicked alongside me.
He snuggled his warm, wooly head in the palm of my hand 
while I scratched him behind the ears, told him how great he was 
and encouraged him not to let the other lambs get him down. 
Sometimes, as I left, he'd bleat "Come back!" 
Some of his bleats hit me right in the heart.
I'd bonded with a goddam lamb. 
I wanted to take him home, but worried that
his bleating would annoy the neighbors.
Eventually he was donated to a grade school.
A year later I asked the keepers what was up with him.
Turned out he got a horn caught on a wire fence at the school 
and the horn was torn off. 
The school folks didn't recognize the seriousness of his injury, 
it got infected and he died.

We used to joke about that lamb becoming a punk-rocker lamb, an angry, sensitive artist outcast who was better, and more poetic, and cleverer than the rest.
This site is dedicated to him.
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...and why "angrylambie"? 
Before the motherless lamb business, a dear friend had mailed me an angry-looking lamb doll.
  The note below came with it.