Chapter 24 Oxford
Oxford
I’m bouncing on all fours.
Sproinging, more accurately.
This is an unprecedented development. In my seven years of existence, I have maintained a dignified deportment befitting a creature of my stature.
I do not frolic. I most certainly do not bounce. And yet, here I am, propelling my llama mass skyward in what can only be described as unbridled jubilation.
How utterly fascinating.
“Go Oxford!” Melody’s voice reaches me through the strange buzzing in my ears, which I belatedly recognize as the sound of my own heartbeat elevated by what humans call “excitement.”
I bounce again, testing the sensation. My hooves leave the snow-covered ground, and for a brief moment, I am airborne, defying gravity through sheer muscular propulsion. The landing sends a shock through my frame, yet I find myself immediately preparing for another launch.
This is… fun.
The concept itself requires careful examination.
Fun.
A three-letter word is insufficient to describe the neurochemical cascade currently flooding my system. Dopamine. Serotonin. Endorphins. The cocktail of pleasure that has, until now, been relegated to more dignified pursuits, such as wearing the perfect scarf.
Melody dances beside me, her movements as uncoordinated as they are enthusiastic.
“Look at him go!” Finn calls, brushing snow from his excessive layers. “The llama’s got moves!”
I’ve got “moves.”
And I just can’t stop. This is wildly inappropriate but somehow so satisfying.
When Melody loses her balance at the edge of the slope, I feel an unusual sensation in my chest cavity. Alarm. Concern. The urge to intervene. Before I can act, Everett moves with impressive speed, positioning himself beneath her as they tumble down the hill together.
And then I am bouncing once more.
Joy. What a curious emotion. Neither wholly rational nor entirely chaotic. Not useful in the evolutionary sense, yet essential for what humans call “living fully.”
Dr. Hersey once told a patient that joy is not the absence of pain but the presence of connection.
At the time, I categorized this as a typical therapeutic platitude.
Now, watching Melody and Everett climb back up the hill, snow-covered and laughing, while Gabe and Finn wait with open arms and open hearts, I reassess my evaluation.
Connection. To others. To oneself. To the moment.
I shake the snow from my coat, adjusting my scarf with a toss of my head. Perhaps this is the most surprising discovery of all: that one can be both dignified and joyful, both observer and participant.
As the humans gather at the top of the hill, their scents mingling into what I now recognize as the beginnings of a pack bond, I make a professional notation in my mental case file:
Subject: Oxford the Llama
Diagnosis: Experiencing joy
Prognosis: Excellent
Treatment plan: More sproinging