I Spy With My Little Eye

Ever since I was a preschooler, I have wanted a pet llama. I have told George countless times that if we ever have acreage, I want to raise llamas. Now, I don't know the first thing about caring for llamas. I am a city girl at heart and frankly, I struggle with the day to day mess created by Scout, the ill-mannered white not-so-much-red heeler who drops enough fur all over the house to cause us all to wonder how the dog is not completely bald by now. And don't even get me started on who exactly will be shoveling all that llama poo. There really is no logical reason for me to take on llama rearing but I can tell you from where this deep-seated desire came. I can thank Sesame Street and their catchy little ditty about a girl taking her pet llama to the dentist.

What can I say? For whatever reason, this segment sold me on the idea of a pet llama. Watching this now all these years later, I still imagine what it would be like to have a pet llama and I just know that I would sing, "Me and My Llama" changing the words to narrate the events of our day. Yes folks, TV can mess up kids and put all kinds of thoughts in their heads.

My granddad knew about my plans to have a pet llama and he always told me I should think about getting a goat instead. My granddad was in fact a country boy in his younger years and having been around all kinds of animals, including a pet monkey that he had while serving in the Navy during the Korean War, he said that goats were by far the most fun pet a person could have. 

When Liam was a lot younger, he actually took art lessons from a lady whose husband was a goat farmer. So every week when we went out to her house for the lessons, we would get to see all the goats. They also had a few Great Pyranese and Australian Shepherds to protect the goats from the local coyotes. Those were some gigantic hairy dogs who wandered the property at their leisure and every now and again they would make their way into the house to nap on the cool tile floor. One day, while sitting in the art teacher's living room, I spied a grape on her kitchen floor. I was thinking of picking it up and tossing it in the trash for her but I was afraid I was going to disrupt her lesson so I just ignored it. Well, when class was over, and we were all gathering in her kitchen, I was reminded of the grape on the floor but before I could pick it up, one of the students inadvertantly kicked it and the grape rolled across the floor stopping so close to my feet that I nearly stepped on it. I was just about to bend over and get it when the art teacher noticed it. I said, "Looks like you lost a grape." To which she replied while leaning over to scoop up the grape, "Oh no, this isn't a grape. Apparently one of the goats lost an eye and one of the dogs must have carried it into the house. It happens all the time." All the time?! Let me just be clear. I do not do eyeballs...at all. Knowing I had seen that thing rolling all over her kitchen and that I had almost stepped on it and had almost picked it up...well, it was almost more than I could take. It was by the grace of God that I did not pass out right then and there.

Suffice it to say, I can clearly see that I am not cut out for dealing with farm animals, and as for Scout, she can drop her fur all over my house as long as she keeps her eyes to herself.