items -     View Cart
Powder Puff Pacas - Logo

Thursday, January 12, 2017

Cats

Precious

Precious

Cats. In particular, our cat. Precious. I hate cats. I hate our cat. Precious. He’s a big guy; very hairy. Hair’s as long as mine. Sticks out like mine. I hate it. He has long, sharp claws. He has long, sharp teeth. He skulks around our barn and pastures, and quite frankly, he scares the bejeezus out of me. Grammy says he can jump on our backs and claw and bite us to death. Ayala, says that Grammy is just messing with me. I trust Grammy. She’s been around for a long while, so she knows. But I also trust Ayala. She’s been like a mom to the whole herd. She’s calm, cool, and collected. She’s smart and pretty too. (She’s my hero!). I don’t know who’s right or wrong, but I know I’m scared of our cat. And did I say he’s big?

Precious. What kind of name is that. We had a cat before Precious – his name was Barn Cat. He was okay, not so big. Stayed away a lot. He got killed by a car. 2-leg-mom cried and cried. Then all of a sudden this new cat just showed up. He was a matted mess, and he stunk. But 2-leg-mom said he’s a precious soul, and she scooped him up and cuddled him and cried and cried. (She cries a lot I guess!) So that’s how Precious got here and got named.

It’s not that Precious has ever tried to harm me, or any of us for that matter. But I did see him carrying around a dead rabbit last summer. Other than that, he pretty much keeps to himself. But he just “looks” around all the time. All the time eyeing everything that moves. Birds. Mice. Rabbits. Me. He sits on the hay bales and watches. He prowls around the pasture and watches.

Yesterday when 2-leg-mom came in the barn, she saw that Precious had a bloody ear. Oh she cooed at him, and cleaned it up, and gave him some goo, and he just stood there and took it. He’s that tough. Not even a flinch. But then he sat on 2-leg-mom’s lap and watched me. I think he even smiled. Smirked is probably a better word. Sort of like saying, “The other cat looks much worse. You’re next!”

I hate cats.


Respectfully,
Diva
Diva

Diva


Thursday, December 29, 2016

A moment in hell

Shiloh's spitface

Shiloh's spitface

I hear them entering the barn, on the girls' side. They're not too quiet, yet I can't see them for the bales of hay in the way. I can smell them though. I hear the girls shuffling. Moving. Trying to get away. The activity is getting more intense. And now I smell something else -- fear. Perhaps it's just me. But now the girls are moving faster; I hear many feet running. I strain to see around the bales, to no avail. More of the boys are joining me to see what's going on. We look at each other and wonder; worry. I hear Diva scream now, and there's Elekktra spitting. They must be cornered otherwise they'd run outside - outside to safety. Now I can see fleece flying. Little tufts I catch a glimpse of over the bales. Somebody just kicked a wall. The sound reverberates through the barn; then suddenly all is silent. I thought I heard a door open.....did I? Was it my imagination?

They're coming around the bales and making their way toward me. Slowly. Sharp points glint in the barn lights. They're covered in fleece. Diva's? Oh my god, my god. I'm so frightened I can't move....all of us boys are scared stiff. Then at once, moving as one, we all bolted away, in the other direction, any direction to be free. The door is closed. When? How? Who? Doesn't matter, find a pathway out. Become invisible.

They have me. I feel their grip on my neck. Pulling me toward them. Oh my god, my god. I spit, and spit again. My bladder lets loose. I can't stop it. I scream, stamp, dance, cush down and protect my legs. Protect them at all costs. They are my only means of escape.

But they don't stop. They just continue. I feel a saber-sharp bite in my side. And then they come at me again and again. And all the kicking and screaming, stamping and spitting aren't accomplishing anything. Then finally it's over. I lay there, gasping for breath. I stand. Test my legs. I've managed to protect them. They're strong.

Yes, they're still strong. No bleeding. No pain. I can't speak for the spitface aftermath I find myself afflicted with. But something else is different. My feet feel different. I look up. They're there. Mom reaches out and scratches my favorite spot behind my ears, and offers me a treat. "Poor baby. I wish you didn't hate your feet touched so much. But you need your nails trimmed once in a while, and your monthly shot. Are you okay now? Poor baby."

I don't care for the treat - I still have spitface. But I succumb to mom's cooing and gentle scratching behind my ears. I have to dig deep to find my dignity. I do. Give a stomp. One last kick in the air; and I move to the hay bin. Herd health is complete once again.

Gathering my pride,
Shiloh

Sunday, December 25, 2016

Christmas Morning

Artie (Heartthrob)

Artie (Heartthrob)

I got my alfalfa! I'm rolling in it. I'm wearing it on my head, and my back!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Artie

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

Christmas Conundrum

Artie (Heartthrob)

Artie (Heartthrob)

Christmas is coming! Christmas is coming! I can hardly wait. Santa always brings good girls and boys presents. I wonder if he’ll bring presents to alpacas this year? I’ve been very, very good all year. Well actually since forever. Well most of the time. Well, I try real hard.

I hope he brings some nice, fresh alfalfa. I thought hard about it, and I love carrots, and I love my min-a-ruls, and I love apples, and I really love cookies……but I think alfalfa is like licorice ……. It tastes very good, and it lasts a long, long time. Yep, I think I’m gonna ask Santa to bring me some alfalfa that I don’t have to share. All mine! I can roll in it, and bury my head in it, and wear it,

But then if I ask for alfalfa I don’t have to share, will Santa think I’m naughty? And if he thinks I’m naughty, will he ignore me? Or will we bring me some stupid kale instead? I really don’t like kale, and I really don’t want kale. If he brings me kale, I won’t it eat it. So if I don’t eat it, then I’ll be naughty.
So in order to be good and get my alfalfa, I have to ask for alfalfa that I’ll share, which I don’t want to do.

Hmmmmm. Maybe now I know why Santa doesn’t bring presents to alpacas!


Confused,
Artie

Monday, December 12, 2016

First Snow

Windy

Windy

Windy: Look at the beautiful snow! Isn’t it be-you-tea-full!! Look at it sparkle. Look at it twinkle. Isn’t it be-you-tea-ful!! Who wants to go and play in it with me?

Cream O Wheat (Grammy): It’s cold and wet. Let me just lay here and swang my jaw. I’m in the zone.

Windy: But we can jump and run and play in it! And we’ll get all sparkly and twinkly! Come on!

Grammy: (Swang. Swang. Swang.) Ohm. Ohm. Ohm.

Misty: Oh crap.

Grammy: (Swang. Swang. Swang) Ohm. Ohm. Ohm.

Diva: Oh no. Mom can’t make it out through this. We’re gonna die. The feeders are halfway empty. The water trough is down a couple inches. We’re gonna starve! We’re gonna die! We must ration food and water for the winter. Maybe we can eat snow. WE’RE GONNA DIE!!

Misty: Crap.

Windy: We can go play in it before we eat it! Come on.

Diva: We should cover the doors to keep the cold out. Maybe we could stuff the goat in the doorway, add Shiloh, he’s pretty big. The two of them should block the wind and cold nicely. Everybody, everybody, we’ll all poop over there from now on, so that it doesn’t get in the way of the feeder. Only one mouthful of hay a day. A little sip of water. Let’s get to work.

Windy: We can go out and get all sparkly before you block the door! Come on!

Misty: Crap.

Diva: We’re gonna die and all you can think of is playing.

Grammy: Ohm. Ohm.

Shiloh: Did somebody call me? You ladies need a little somethin’ from the big guy?

Goat: Baaa. Baaaa.

Misty: Crap.

Diva: We’re gonna die. No food. No water. Soon we’ll be eating each other.

Mom (entering the barn and shaking off the snow): Good morning everybody! Are you all ok? Anybody shivering? Need coats?

Diva: Never mind.

Misty: Crap.

Grammy: Ohm. Ohm.

Shiloh: What just happened?
Grammy

Grammy

Misty

Misty

Diva

Diva

Shiloh

Shiloh


Wednesday, December 7, 2016

The Grand Dam

Cream O Wheat (Grammy)

Cream O Wheat (Grammy)

Good Lord! I know that I'm getting older. I'm not the beauty that I once was. But I've had several cria in my day, nursed the little buggers until they were strong and gorgeous, and I've produced tons of lovely fiber for you. I’ve never been ill, or given you a bit of trouble. I always come to you willingly and take your meager offerings of carrots and cookies. All ask in return is a little respect.

Did I not give you due deference quietly chewing some sweet cud, watching you clean up our barn. Did I spit on you? No. Did I grumble or growl? No. Did I move my feet when you asked? Yes.




Therefore, I do not understand why in the name of all that is holy did you feel the need to sneak that shovel under my butt when I was pooping today. How ROOD!! I had very meticulously chosen my spot, sniffed it, assumed the position that works best for an old gal, and let myself slip into the zone. And then you pulled the sneak and snatch move. Very difficult to maintain a modicum of dignity after that.

Respectfully submitted,
Cream O Wheat


Friday, December 2, 2016

Windy's Input

The weather's FINALLY beginning to cool off (30F - 40F). Mom put down what she calls our "first layer" of straw in the barn, and it's fun. I like to drop into it and roll, kick my legs a bit, and then leave it in a mess. Some of it sticks in my back and tickles. I like that. But for right now I mostly prefer to stay outside and let the summer stink blow out of my fleece. Not that I stink, I don't want to give anybody that impression. Let's change that to "freshen" my lovely fleece.

Today was even more fun cuz mom gave us all a LOT of my favorite treats - CARROTS! Mmmmm, I love carrots! I could eat carrots every day, every day, breakfast, lunch and dinner. Mom said that we had so many carrots today our barn will covered in orange poop tomorrow. She's silly.

Signing off - everybody's heading to the poop pile - I don't want to lose my place in line.

Hugs.

Windy.