21. Enzo
Enzo
I throw open the gate to Oliver’s pen. The motion-activated lights mounted on some of the fence posts shine brightly, but I don’t see any threat, only Oliver standing and screaming all alone. Maybe something got to him but ran off before we made it outside?
Joni is right behind me, but even she can’t get Oliver to settle. He’s the only alpaca I’ve ever been around, so all I can do is follow her lead. We talk to him, try to rub his neck, but he insists on throwing his head back to fend us off, and he continues to scream.
“He doesn’t want to be touched,” I say. “He’s acting like he’s in pain.”
“I know. I’ll call Dr. Abernathy.”
She runs inside to get her phone while I keep attempting to calm Oliver. I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t see any injuries on him anywhere, but he’s clearly in distress. Keeping my voice level, I assure him he’s okay but he doesn’t seem to hear my words over his own shrieking.
“Doc’s on the way.” Joni takes over trying to soothe him, shoving her phone at me for safekeeping. I don’t think she even realizes she’s given it to me. She’s on autopilot.
I step back and watch her interact with this unusual pet she loves so much, racking my brain, trying to think of something we might not be able to see.
“Do you think it could be a snake bite?” I ask.
“I hope not!”
Shit. I didn’t mean to panic her.
By the time Dr. Abernathy arrives, Oliver hasn’t settled entirely, but his screams are more spaced out now.
The vet pauses to look me up and down. I’m still shirtless with one leg of my jeans haphazardly scrunched at the top of my boot.
It’s more than obvious that I dressed in a hurry.
Joni is wearing a pair of cutoffs that are barely visible under my shirt, which I just realized she put on inside out.
We’re a walking pair of context clues that no one could miss. There is no plausible explanation other than the truth: we sprang out of bed to come help this animal. I’m not sure how many people she’s told we’re dating, but if her boss didn’t know before, he does now.
He moves in to examine Oliver. “Did he eat and drink okay today?”
“Yeah,” Joni answers quietly. She’s scared, and I hate that there’s nothing I can do to make this better.
“Activity level?”
“Prancing and pronking around the pen like his usual self.”
“Something could’ve spooked him. Coyote, bobcat . . . he instinctively knows he’s prey.” He stares at Joni quietly for a moment. “Or this could be the thing we talked about before. Stress from isolation. Either way, he’d be much better off right now if he were part of a herd.”
“What am I supposed to do, give him up? Or maybe go broke starting a damn rescue operation? Because it feels like you’re saying those are my only two options!”
“They might be. I know you don’t want to hear this, Joni, but if you really want what’s best for Oliver, you need to think about what you’re doing here. Sometimes our best intentions can still have negative consequences.”
Oliver has stopped screaming, almost as if he understands the conversation they’re having. He lowers himself to the ground between their feet like he’s about to stage a sit-in.
The vet goes on. “I don’t see any signs of injury.
If he’s eating normally, I’m not so worried about his liver, but it wouldn’t hurt to do some labs, just to be sure.
He’s not complaining when I press around his stomach, but it’s hard to rule out a gastric ulcer without blood work.
You’re keeping up with his parasite injections? ”
“Yeah, of course. But let’s check everything. I’ll do a blood draw in the morning and bring it in.”
“Sounds good. I noticed his castration teeth need to be filed, too. Do you—”
“His what?” I ask. “Did you say what I think you said?”
The vet and Joni exchange a look, and they both laugh.
“It’s true,” Joni says. “Male alpacas bite the balls off other males in the herd. They have special teeth for it.”
Dr. Abernathy smiles as he steps past me and says, “Don’t worry, big guy. Yours are safe. Probably.”
Joni lets out another laugh, and I take another step back from Oliver.
What a way to end the week: cock-blocked by an alpaca who might someday want to shear my nuts off with his special teeth. I’ve never seen him as anything other than a strangely cute little animal. I had no idea he had the potential to mutilate me.
Oliver stands up, and the urge to cross my legs has never been stronger. Joni scratches his fluffy face, and he hums.
“I think he wants your attention, too,” she says.
The bumper sticker on her truck takes center stage in my mind: Love Me, Love My Alpaca
I join her at Oliver’s side and scratch his neck, proving there is no limit to what I’d do to make this woman smile.
After a while, I ask her if she’s ready to go back inside.
“I’m not going back in tonight,” she says.
“You can’t sleep out here.”
“Who says? I own this place. I can sleep wherever I want.”
“You’re serious.”
“I am. But before you go, can you stay with him while I run in to grab a pillow and some blankets?”
“You stay with him. I’ll go inside and get that stuff for you.” No way am I staying out here alone with him after what I learned tonight.
I gather the pillows and comforter from her bed. I’ve seen other blankets folded in the top of her towel closet in the bathroom, so I grab a few of those, too.
“Did you bring every blanket I own?” she asks when I come back with my arms overloaded.
“No, just enough to cushion the ground underneath us a little.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, us. You’re not sleeping out here alone.”
“Enzo, you’ve been working your ass off. You’re exhausted. You can’t sleep out here on the ground with me.”
“Who says?” If loving her means loving her alpaca, which tonight means sleeping on the ground in case he has another episode, then that’s what I’m going to do.
She opens her mouth to argue, but no words come out. Instead, she reaches for a blanket and spreads it on the ground. I lay another on top of it, and we place the pillows the way they normally lay on her bed.
Oliver beds down nearby, calmly lowering his head. I lie on my back and lift my arm so Joni can rest her head on my shoulder. She hesitates, and I don’t think it’s just because she’s worried about Oliver.
“Come here, beautiful. Let’s talk about the stars.” She needs a distraction, something that carries no stress and requires no emotional labor.
“You know all the galaxies, don’t you?” she asks, scooting closer to me.
“Probably not all of them.”
“Were you a Boy Scout?” She snuggles against me, and I inhale the fresh scent of her hair.
“That’s why I’m always prepared.”
“For what?”
“Whatever you need.”