My llama, Emerald, is three years old now. I love him. Usually, he loves me too.
Is it corny to say that three years ago, my life changed? It did.
Llamas are very private with their births. Unlike cows and horses, llama births usually happen in the middle of the day. In the wild it gives the crias time to dry off and get moving before it gets dark, and cold. The other females in the herd will usually stand around the llama giving birth, practically blocking her from view. This happens a lot. Emerald was no different.
Emerald was born quickly. It took Opal, his mother, less than half an hour to drop him completely. On a hot afternoon in June she managed to give birth in the time it took three girls and myself to load ponies and goats into the trailer, grab a few bottles of water from the house, and climb into the truck. The girls and Ted took off down the road to go to Wolcot School, and I turned around to find a wet Emerald and very trusting Opal laying on the ground.
I called Ted screaming. What else was I supposed to do?
He tried to calm me down. It didn't work. He turned the truck around and came back. What else was he supposed to do?
From day one, he's been my llama. He's been my world. He's been my dreams and my future. When plans are made, they involve him. When Ted brings him somewhere and I don't go, he calls me just to let me know.
My llama listens to me... Most of the time. It drives Ted mad because HIS llamas don't listen to him... Ever. Well, Pit doesn't listen to him. When Emerald misbehaves and gets punished he is visibly upset when I yell at him. It breaks my heart when his ears pin back and his head bows down, but I know it's for his own good. After all, he can't be allowed to go on chewing on electrical cords, or playing with my phone, or- the biggest no-no of all- stealing my coffee. They're just not safe things for him to do.
Just like any relationship, Emerald tests me and pushes me. Sometimes he misbehaves and I can tell it's on purpose. Sometimes he's in a bad mood, and sometimes he just wants to be hugged. I try my best to read his emotions as well as he reads mine. He somehow knows when I need him to nuzzle me. He knows when it's important- REALLY important- to listen to me. He knows when he can get away with murder.
He's three years old now, in human years. If his recent moods are any indication, he's just turned fifteen in llama years.
I love him anyway.
Happy Birthday, Emerald.
