Llambert the Llama: I blame it on the grain!

I know I wasn't supposed to follow the grain, but it smelled oh so sweet with just a hint of molasses.

And, hey, she's lured me into the barn before. It's usually so that she can do unpleasant things -- like shots -- to the sheep.

How was I supposed to know that's what she planned for me?

Well, she didn't do the shooting; a tall man did. The next thing I know I was getting sleepy.

Then, I remember trying to open my eyes, but I was oh, so sleepy. And the chink, chink, chink sound lulled me back to sleep.

Chink, chink, chink.

I felt myself getting lighter and cooler.

Oh, I knew I should open my eyes, but I was oh so sleepy.

When I did open my eyes, I saw a horse face that seemed to be laughing at me.

Was I dreaming?

Chink, chink, chink.

Then I awoke, and I saw hair all around me.

Hey, it was my hair!

Was this one of those slumber party experiences where I fall asleep and someone shaves my eyebrow?

I rub my head against my leg.

Whew! I have my eyebrow.

But I sure feel different.

And why are the sheep laughing at me?

Trick: New Toys

               

It’s been a long, boring winter.

Dewey Kitty, the indoor/outdoor cat keeps running inside to warm his paws by the fire.

The farm mistress comes to the barn and does chores, but she’s spends no time in the garden and little time with the horses or working the dogs on sheep. I so miss pouncing the dogs as they circle around the sheep.

And, to make matters worse, my novelty with the hens and ewes is gone. No longer can I plop down among the chickens, flick my tail, and expect a reaction. They just roll their beady little eyes and cluck, “Oh, it’s you.”

When I try to entice the ewes to play the follow-the-leader game, they just trot to the barn and say they’re too old for kid stuff.

 But new play toys arrived this week.

 Lambs! I love lambs.

When a lamb finishes nursing, I like to grab the lamb by its neck and lick its lips. Milk. Yum. The ewes do not like this. They stomp and charge me. So, I have to be strategic and plot my escape route.

I also like to play the follow the leader game. But that too has to wait until the lambs are a few weeks old and released with the flock.

So for now, I sit on the stall doors and talk to the lambs and laugh when the ewes stomp at me. They can’t get me from my perch.

Dewey: Finally! Mom is paying attention to me

Sometimes it's hard to compete with Border collies.

Oh, I try. I cuddle and sit pretty. I'll even fall over on command and ring a bell when I want to go outside. Yet, sometimes I feel that Mom favors those dogs.

A few days ago, when the cold weather blew in, things changed. She started doing things for me.

First, she re-arranged the furniture. I love that because it gives me new places to explore and perch.

Then today she took the quilts and comforters off of the beds and made little tents so I could crawl under them and sleep. Even my buddy Louie got in the action, and we had a first-class chase game and wrestle fest.

This afternoon, I was sitting on her desk, staring at her, wondering what tomorrow would bring when she said, "I think we're ready for the guests."

Guests? What guests?

I walked over, sat on the keyboard and glared.

Do you mean you weren't doing all this for me?

Louie: My Story: My New Home

Because I'd grown up in a home without dogs and cats, it took me some time to adjust to my new home.

Luckily, the upstairs is mostly a dog-free zone.

But it's not a Dewey Kitty-free zone.

It took some time to adjust to an 8-week-old terrorist kitten. At times, he wanted to snuggle with me.

I learned to like that.

Because he was a kitten, and not good about washing his face and behind his ears, I took over those duties. Sometimes, he repaid me with grooming.

But mostly, when not napping, he wanted to eat my food, chase my tail, pounce on me, and wrestle.

I had to teach him how to play nice. After all, I didn't have claws, but he did.

Over time, I grew to like the ever-growing guy. He taught me to lighten up, to not be so serious, and to have a little fun.

Louie: My Story: At the Shelter, Part 2

A few days later, the blonde lady returns to the shelter, points at me, and says, "I'm here to adopt Gus."

Picking me up, she says, "Your days were numbered. We'll just watch you around the Border collies."

After placing me in a plastic box, she fills out some paperwork with the woman who feeds me at the shelter.

"By the way," the shelter worker tells the lady. "His real name is Louie."

When I arrive at my new home, I discover what a Border collie is.

I didn't want anything to do with that.

I run upstairs, crawl under a chair, find a hole in the underlining and crawl in there.

I think I am safe, until I am found by this.

Louie: My Story: At the Shelter

On Day 12 at the shelter, a blonde lady came into the Cat Room and said, "I want to see Gus."

I looked around to see where she was pointing.

She was pointing at me!

Before I could protest, she opened my cage and picked me up. Maybe she was taking me home. Believe me, after spending nearly two weeks in a room with a Siamese cat, a few other opinionated adult cats, and four overzealous kittens, I was ready to go.

"Oh, he doesn't have claws," she said, holding my front paw so that the man next to her could see. "How could he live in a home with Border collies?"

I didn't have an answer for her. I'd never met a Border collie. I didn't know what they were.

The man turned to the kittens and pulled out the orange one.

"He has claws," the man said, holding the kitten out to the woman.

Sighing, she put me back in my cage and turned her attention toward the kitten. Within minutes they left with the kitten.

That Saturday, I sat in my cage and watched as three other people came in and left with kittens.

The Egg Mystery: What Really Happened

The farm owner bragged about her chickens' eggs.

"They are tastiest, prettiest eggs, ever," she told her family and friends.

"Here, taste one," she said.

They agreed, and word spread about the tasty eggs that came from the flock of Buckeye hens.

On Christmas Day, she found no eggs when she went to the hen house.

There were no eggs on the next day, or the next day, or the next.

"Why have you stopped laying eggs?" she asked.

The hens just turned their heads and looked at each other.

Every day she went to the hen house and found no eggs.

"What is happening?" she asked.

The hens just turned their heads and looked at each other.

Then, one day in late winter, it snowed.

Around the chicken house, she found cat tracks, llama tracks and sheep tracks in the snow.

She also found over-sized bunny tracks lead up to the chicken house door.

She had never seen such large bunny tracks.

"Could it be?" she whispered.

"Have you had a special visitor?" she asked the hens.

They just turned their heads and looked at each other and murmured.

A few licked chocolate off their beaks.