Page 33 of If You Like It, I Love It

“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.”