Yes Virginia You Can Pack an Alpaca and a Llama Into an SUV

A lot of people have been waiting with bated breath to find out if you can indeed wedge a full grown alpaca and a baby llama into the back of an SUV (as Lucas so confidently claimed - yes sir, I bow to your experience and wisdom in these matters) and I dare say we can now state, with utter confidence, that yes, you can Virginia. You can pack them in there. In fact, there is room to spare. What you cannot do, Virginia, is keep them lying down while you drive (particularly as your cruise nonchalantly past officers of the law and the crowded sidewalks of normally sleepy towns at which points and for the record, Lucas, it becomes rather difficult to "speed up and take a few sharp corners" - I'm just saying) and you also cannot keep them from spitting inside your car. Yes, they spit. At least the alpaca does. The little guy has better manners so far.

So, yes, Rachel and I intrepidly traveled to Lucas's place to pick these guys up. I almost hate to tell you the names they came with because after a lot of deliberation I've decided to change/alter them. It's not because I didn't like the names they came with, it's just that, well, for one thing, the little guy's (he's the llama) name was Poindexter. Which I totally love. But try saying that in a sentence when you refer to him. It takes all day. So we're going to call him Roux (like rue or if you prefer roo, only French.) It's actually the name of a Johnny Depp character in Chocolat. And he just looks like a Roux. He eats grain out our hands and sniffs our faces all over (breath mints are clearly in order . . . for him, not us . . . if you've ever come up close and personal with a llama you'll find, trust me on this, that they smell remarkably like silage. A matter you're not likely to encounter until you have one kissing your face.)

The big guy was Jake and we're sorta keeping that, except that he looks like a pirate and is rather grumpy and set in his ways. So we're calling him Cap'n Jake Blythe. Or mostly, probably, Cap'n for short. Not that I'd wish this on him, but really he ought to have an eye patch and a peg leg and stump around growling, "Arrrh, me hearties."

Needless to say Rachel has really gotten into this whole camelid thing and scoots down to the barn at odd hours to feed Roux grain from her hand and try to talk the Cap'n into liking her. She is, while I type this, making camelid cookies from a recipe we found online. Like I said . . .