Back to Memorial Day weekend happenings, which life swept me past without getting a chance to blog about them...
After Moxie died in March and we moved the ornery llama to the nearby llama rescue farm in early April, Jim returned to work and realized he didn't have time for the remaining two llamas anymore.
I had wondered all along what purpose they served here, but never could come up with an answer. The hay was dwindling and so was cash at the end of our winter unemployment. Jim decided it was best to move them on, too.
Our other llama ended up doing very well on the llama rescue farm, so we called them back and asked if they would take our remaining two. They agreed. This time they showed up with a three-bay horse trailer, which was good because I remember the fiasco trying to shove the llama in the back of their Suburban last time. Not pretty.
Quigley and Pedro left Memorial Day weekend. Our kids were sad, especially CJ, but it was time.
So Memorial Day weekend will hold a different kind of memorial for us. I hope some day I can learn how to clean and spin into yarn the coats from Moxie and Quigley I saved after their first shave here. Then I could knit sweaters or scarves for us to wear their memory close to our hearts.
Our llama pen has now become a chipmunk zoo and the shelter for Jim's roofing material. It is still strange to see no llamas out there, but good, for they are now serving their primary purpose--to help rehabilitate damaged children.
I guess their stay with us served a purpose after all: We were a stopping place toward their final destination that they wouldn't have made it to otherwise. And I learned a whole lot about llamas. Like don't ever try to hold a llama by yourself while your spouse gives it a shot and clips their hooves--even it you have it tied to a tree.
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