Some of you remember that I have a llama. She has noticed that the camera has been pointed in every direction but hers.
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Is that your camera pointed at me? (Nose close-up
for Jane.) |
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| About bloody time! |
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| Do I stick my nose in your food? Back off, girlfriend... |
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| Much better. |
Apria is a far cry from my boy, Hoosier. She's bigger, crankier, and much more camel-like. Some of it may have to do with the fact that she's mostly blind. Some of it may have to do with the fact that she's middle-aged (just ask me how I know this to be true). Some of it may have to do with the fact that she's just spitting distance from her nasty-camel relatives in the gene pool. This spring, I have to have her hooves trimmed. HAVE to. I may need to call the zoo and have them send out the guy with the rhino tranquilizer dart gun. At least my shearer had vision of foresight and sheared her closely enough that we can squeeze another year in between shearings.
While I'm not happy that the woman with whom I dealt on the llama-trade lied like a rug and took full advantage of my naive-ness, I guess Apria could have ended up in a worse place. At least she is well-fed, she got the ten-pound matted fur coat trimmed off and we pretty much don't mess with her. She's got her two sheep to look after, shelter and goat t.v. What more can you ask for?
