I have to admit it. Llamas apparently scare me. I just get over one
fear: sharks; and replace it with a new one: llamas.
Sure they are fluffy.
Sure they are cute–in a camel without a harelip kind of way.
But mostly, they are man-eating killing machines bent on the destruction
of a way of life.
So I went to visit Dori and Rich at their Llama Farm. I knew I was going
to be scared because this was like out away from sidewalks and cable
isn’t run way out there.
I pull up and a giant black and white cat attempts to stare me down in
the driveway. I was still pretty brave at this point because I was in
the car. I figured the car could take this single cat if it came to
that.
Then, the cat (who I later learned had the scary moniker of “Tubby”)
whistled for a couple of its buddies. I swear I heard them meowing “When
You’re a Jet” under their little hisses of anger. I was, after all, an
interloper.
I get out of the car, immediately on the defense and make my way to the
farmhouse porch. I kind of felt like Tippi Hendron and Rod Taylor at the
end of “The Birds”: silently and stealthily I made my way to the porch
while these cats snapped their fingers following me; hissing out “Be
cool, boy. Got a rocket, in my pocket–stay cool, boy.”
Cats like musicals. I’m almost certain that is true.
I get into the house, and the house is swimming in cats as well. They
are all watching me. Calculating my next move. They must know about the
squirrels at my house. In fact, I think that’s where they might have
been receiving their orders.
Later, Dori and Rich take me to see their expansive parcel of land and I
see the couriers of doom–the llamas. One was sharpening it’s teeth with
an old nail file. Another was assembling a pipe bomb from standard
household materials. Yet another, and it makes me shudder just to
remember the sad, lunatic grin across this maniacal animal’s face, was
reading some sort of religious manifesto. And highlighting significant
passages. Brrr. Scary.
Dori and Rich, ever enjoying watching me in pain and scared for my life,
decide to take me in the barn where they will feed the llamas. Knowing
these creatures to be the wild beasts and kings of the jungle that they
are, I kept a respectful distance despite the couple inviting me to come
forward. I believe they even called into question my courage–which is
funny when you think of it. I had a swim with a completely harmless
shark just a month earlier. I went on my bike not once, but twice, after
terrible accidents having to do with complete lacks of skill and a
distracting blond if memory serves. I was, after all, Captain
Catastrophe.
Once Dori and Rich figured out I was going to be stubborn about this,
Rich showed me the hay loft in the barn attic. No farmer’s daughters up
there, so there goes that fantasy. When we returned downstairs, Dori had
let one of the beasts out of the pen. I immediately figured out that the
creature was hunting for some human flesh, so I quickly hid behind Rich
and rolled up into a fetal position.
My quick thinking obviously saved the day, as no one was injured.
That didn’t keep Rich from bringing one of the llamas into the house
later. Never thought I would see a DVD player in the same room with a
llama–gotta admit–but there it was.
I escaped without further incident. Thanks Dori and Rich for an eventful
day and for protecting me from those frightening beasts you have out
there.
Chills. I still have the chills.
I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and pray that you have no
frightening encounters with livestock this holiday season.
Survivingly yours,
Captain Catastrophe