16. Joni
Joni
Dr. Abernathy pulls me aside between appointments to ask about Oliver. He knows about the recent changes in his demeanor.
“He’s eating well again. His energy still seems a little low, but maybe he’s just getting older.”
“You remember our conversation when you decided to keep him, right?”
“I do. They’re social animals and don’t normally do well without a companion. But Oliver’s thrived since he came to live with me.”
“I’d be happy to come out and examine him, just as a precaution.”
I almost say there’s no need, but I flinch before the words can leave my mouth. What would it hurt to have him looked at? I can’t ignore reality just because I might not be ready to face it. If I find out later that Oliver had been sick all along, I’ll never forgive myself.
“Yeah. Actually, I’d appreciate it. Thanks.”
“I’ll swing by this evening, if that’s okay.”
“That’d be great.”
I arrive home to a mess in my kitchen, but they’re mid-cleanup when I walk in. It’s not like Enzo didn’t warn me that construction would bring another round of mess, but I’d almost forgotten what it looked like during demolition.
I’m grateful for the progress, but I didn’t even get a chance to cook a meal in my new kitchen before the breakfast nook construction started. The plastic sheeting draped over everything makes it look like a jobsite again.
Enzo insisted we should hold off on hanging the mini chandeliers over the island until the rest of the project is fully done. The thought of having to clean every little individual crystal again convinced me.
Speaking of Enzo, I wonder where he is. I didn’t even notice if his truck was out front when I got home.
There were a few trucks parked in the usual spots, but I was too preoccupied to pay much attention to them.
I guess he doesn’t really need to be here right now; I’m just used to seeing him if his crew is here, so I assumed he’d be here.
I head out to check on Oliver before the vet arrives.
He comes straight to me as soon as I enter the pen, and my mood lifts significantly, so much so that I feel like my whole body just got lighter.
The food pellets I’m bringing are probably his incentive, but hunger is a good sign.
And I’m going to let myself believe he’s excited to see me, too.
“Hey, buddy. You feeling better?” I offer him a handful of pellets, and he gobbles them up. “It feels good when the clouds finally break, doesn’t it? I know.”
I really do know. Oliver and I are more alike than I’d have believed a human and an alpaca could be before we found each other. He’s going to be fine. Time is the only cure for some things.
Dr. Abernathy arrives as Oliver is happily devouring the small portion of sweet feed I’ve given him—not as an incentive this time, but purely as a treat. It feels good to spoil him a little instead of having to bribe him to eat.
“This is dessert,” I say. “He ate like a champ tonight.”
“That’s always a good sign.” He scratches Oliver’s neck and then feels around for lumps. After his cyst last year, I check him regularly, but I’m happy to have Doc double check.
Dr. Abernathy pokes and prods a bit more. I stand aside and hope like hell he doesn’t find anything. Oliver is patient and still for him. He trusts this man almost as much as he trusts me.
“He looks good, but keep an eye on him. If the malaise comes back, we’ll do some bloodwork.”
His words should sound more hopeful than they do, but there are unspoken words behind them.
“You got it,” I say. “I told you he was fine with being an only child.”
My joke doesn’t lighten the moment. If anything, it makes things worse.
“Denying herd instinct has consequences, Joni. Oliver has a lot of personality and unique qualities, but he’s still an alpaca.”
“That would be a hard thing to forget, Doc.”
“Seems like it might be a hard thing to accept.”
Ouch. He might as well have hit me in the face with a feed bucket.
“I’ll keep a close eye on him.” I try not to sound offended.
“I know you will. Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Nope. I’m not on the schedule again until Thursday.”
“Ah, well, I’ll see you then.”
I don’t walk him to his truck. He’s grown. He knows the way. I’m not mad at him, but he’s not my favorite person right now. I know he did me a favor by coming over to check on Oliver, and I appreciate him doing it. I just wish he could’ve kept his opinion to himself.
Okay, so herd instinct isn’t an opinion; it’s a real thing, but I still think he’s wrong about Oliver not being unique.
Trauma rewires our brains. There’s no reason to think the same doesn’t happen to alpacas.
Maybe Oliver’s herd instinct never fully developed.
If it had, wouldn’t he have been depressed when he first came here?
He was separated from the other two alpacas two years ago, and he adjusted remarkably well.
Everyone said so—even Doc. He may have followed it up with a reminder that I couldn’t keep a solo alpaca long-term, but he may have been wrong, too.
I rest my head against Oliver’s neck. “Some of us are just built different, aren’t we, buddy?”
His low hum tells me everything I need to know. Oliver is content, and if he’s happy, I’m happy.
The gate opens, and I lift my head to see who’s entering the pen.
Enzo’s smile is almost as comforting as Oliver’s hum.
“Hey, I saw the vet leaving. Is Oliver okay?”
“He’s great. Just a checkup.”
“So, he’s doing better?”
“I just told you he’s great.” Dammit. I don’t mean to snap at him.
“Okay. Glad to hear it.”
He reaches out to Oliver, and my loyal alpaca steps away from me to preen for my . . . for Enzo.
I’m taken aback for a few seconds. Oliver has always loved attention, but he’s never chosen someone else’s attention over mine. Why am I so damn sensitive today? He’s not shunning me. He’s just happy to see Enzo.
We’re both happy to see him, but only one of us is able to show it. I’m not always defensive, but when it surfaces, it can take me a while to work through it. I don’t love this version of myself.
I make a mental note to reconnect with the tools I learned in therapy to help me through periods of change and stress. With the renovation delays and Oliver’s situation, I should’ve seen this coming. I’m a fixer, and when things are beyond my abilities, I get angry—sometimes before I realize it.
Snapping at Enzo just now reminds me of my worst tendencies. I never intend to take my frustration out on other people. It’s not fair.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s not you I’m upset with.”
“We’re good. Who are you upset with?”
“No one in particular. It’s just . . . that’s a lie. Doc said some stuff I didn’t want to hear. He pissed me off, but you didn’t deserve that.”
“Was it something about Oliver’s health?”
“No. Just some stuff about alpacas in general. Nothing I didn’t already know. I just want to be happy about Oliver’s improvement and not worry about future problems that don’t exist yet and may never exist. Is it so wrong to want to celebrate the moment?”
“I’m a big fan of living in the moment. A little surprised to hear that you are, though.” He continues to scratch Oliver, and Oliver continues to hum and nuzzle against Enzo’s strong forearm.
“In some respects, I am. I’m a realist, but I know how important it is to embrace good things while they last. And I know that stressing about the future won’t change it. Maybe I forget sometimes.”
“Glad you got a reminder, but I’m sorry you’re upset.” He holds an arm open for me to step in for a hug, keeping his other one devoted to Oliver.
I sidle up against him and lay my head on his shoulder. This feels so nice. It feels right, the three of us together like this, comforting each other like a weird little mismatched family. We’re nowhere near being a family unit, but whatever we are, I don’t want to worry it away.