Put a stop to Lamb-ism.

The people in this town are "lamb-ist." Oh, sorry. Hi. How are you? Good I hope. Anyway, the people in this town are "lamb-ist." And it really hurts my feelings.
Since Spring is practically here, I decided to pull my bicycle out of the garage, and ride to the park. But then I saw Karen—that's my lamb (I love her!)—looking up at me with the saddest eyes. She wanted to ride, too! While I pretty much ALWAYS give Karen whatever she wants, I don't want her to get hurt, so we took the bus down to the bike shop to purchase a bike seat and helmet for Karen.
It did not go well.
From the moment we walked into the shop, the employees looked at Karen like she was some type of contagious rat. "May I help you?" sniffed the guy behind the counter. And I was all like, "Yeah, I need a bike seat and helmet for Karen, here." This amused the bike guy to no end. "Oh, ha, ha, ha, ha, NOOOOOO…" he laughed mirthlessly. "We don't sell barnyard equipment."
Everyone thought that was super funny -- except for me and Karen.
So I was like, "Maybe I'm missing something, but what's so funny about blunt head trauma?"
And he was all like, "Sir, we don't supply helmets for sheep."
And I was all like, "First of all, he's a lamb. Second of all, can you speak to me like a human being without being such a big stinking pee-hole?" (Pardon my French.)
And he was all like, "DUHHHHHH!"
And I was all like, "I thought so." And we left.
Anybody know where I can find a nice, safe bicycling helmet for Karen? Let me know. To cheer Karen up, I took her to McDonalds for some fries. They aren't lamb-ist.