It's an old saying, most often used to represent a significant overcharge, that notion of being taken. My friend (and colleague and almost daughter ~ if you read any of my blogs you know her already) Jennifer Brinson and I had a good laugh, and reinvented the definition.Here's the background and my disclaimer. I have never been a breeder before; I'm not sure I am even now since the breeder of my llamas, Carol Reigh, provided the dating service. I have never been on a pregnancy watch--either personal or pet--making me on this cria countdown a first time mother. And the overdue clock is still running at minus 18 days overdue. Still, Carol tells me that her girls have already been a month+ overdue, so I suspect there is still hope.
Here's the scenario. Brinson comes to The Farm to help me use iMovie to render a retirement party for Beth Barber. I am that annoying-to-some shutterbug who snaps everything (with pre-approval, of course). Before we began the tech lesson, we walked to the barn to check on Miss Cierra. I told Jen how much pampering and special treatment she's been receiving, making her the No. 1 Spoiled Rotten Llama in the herd. On nights when a fan was definitely not needed, when the pastures had a cooling gentle summer breeze, when the orchard grass was trimmed and waiting--I let Cierra stay in the barn with a fan. And she has been the recipient of just a wee bit of a handful of grain--very little, Carol--just to keep our relationship growing.
Then, almost as if on command, Albert arrives. He is a breeder--of championship beagles--and we ask him if he thinks Cierra is pregnant. When it comes to rendering risky pronouncements, before he knows which way the wind is blowing, Albert is an icon of political correctness, aka hedging bets. Indirectly, he doesn't think so. Has something to do with the rear end and how they carry. Brinson and her family bred one litter of Golden Retrievers, so she thinks maybe/not? I'm clueless, but at this point, here it comes.Here's the point of the title: I am reprising my role as drama queen, one some say I never left behind in childhood. I'm telling Brinson how Cierra is guilty of highway robbery, how much spoiling she has gotten, and we are just plain howling. At my inexperience, at being snookered by Cierra, how she has played me. Brinson is beating me at the llama drama, playing it from the point of view of Cierra. More howls.
I return to Albert's conclusion: I don't think so, but then you'll come home one day and find a cria. The way I see it, I've been hoodwinked in the past, but never by a llama. Monday will be the tell, because Carol is delivering my two new girls, and she will know.
Llamas
The Farm
Breeding
Crias
Camelids
Jennifer Brinson
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