Page 34 of If You Like It, I Love It

“Ah, well, I’ll see you then.”

I don’t walk him to his truck. He’s grown. He knows the way. I’m not mad at him, but he’s not my favorite person right now. I know he did me a favor by coming over to check on Oliver, and I appreciate him doing it. I just wish he could’ve kept his opinion to himself.

Okay, so herd instinct isn’t an opinion; it’s a real thing, but I still think he’s wrong about Oliver not being unique.

Trauma rewires our brains. There’s no reason to think the same doesn’t happen to alpacas. Maybe Oliver’s herd instinct never fully developed. If it had, wouldn’t he have been depressed when he first came here? He was separated from the other two alpacas two years ago, and he adjusted remarkably well. Everyone said so—even Doc. He may have followed it up with a reminder that I couldn’t keep a solo alpaca long-term, but he may have been wrong, too.

I rest my head against Oliver’s neck. “Some of us are just built different, aren’t we, buddy?”

His low hum tells me everything I need to know. Oliver is content, and if he’s happy, I’m happy.

The gate opens, and I lift my head to see who’s entering the pen.

Enzo’s smile is almost as comforting as Oliver’s hum.

“Hey, I saw the vet leaving. Is Oliver okay?”

“He’s great. Just a checkup.”

“So, he’s doing better?”

“I just told you he’s great.” Dammit. I don’t mean to snap at him.

“Okay. Glad to hear it.”

He reaches out to Oliver, and my loyal alpaca steps away from me to preen for my . . . for Enzo.

I’m taken aback for a few seconds. Oliver has always loved attention, but he’s never chosen someone else’s attention over mine. Why am I so damn sensitive today? He’s not shunning me. He’s just happy to see Enzo.

We’re both happy to see him, but only one of us is able to show it. I’m not always defensive, but when it surfaces, it can take me a while to work through it. I don’t love this version of myself.

I make a mental note to reconnect with the tools I learned in therapy to help me through periods of change and stress. With the renovation delays and Oliver’s situation, I should’ve seen this coming. I’m a fixer, and when things are beyond my abilities, I get angry—sometimes before I realize it.

Snapping at Enzo just now reminds me of my worst tendencies. I never intend to take my frustration out on other people. It’s not fair.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s not you I’m upset with.”

“We’re good. Who are you upset with?”

“No one in particular. It’s just . . . that’s a lie. Doc said some stuff I didn’t want to hear. He pissed me off, but you didn’t deserve that.”

“Was it something about Oliver’s health?”

“No. Just some stuff about alpacas in general. Nothing I didn’t already know. I just want to be happy about Oliver’s improvement and not worry about future problems that don’t exist yet and may never exist. Is it so wrong to want to celebrate the moment?”

“I’m a big fan of living in the moment. A little surprised to hear that you are, though.” He continues to scratch Oliver, and Oliver continues to hum and nuzzle against Enzo’s strong forearm.

“In some respects, I am. I’m a realist, but I know how important it is to embrace good things while they last. And I know that stressing about the future won’t change it. Maybe I forget sometimes.”

“Glad you got a reminder, but I’m sorry you’re upset.” He holds an arm open for me to step in for a hug, keeping his other one devoted to Oliver.

I sidle up against him and lay my head on his shoulder. This feels so nice. It feels right, the three of us together like this, comforting each other like a weird little mismatched family. We’re nowhere near being a family unit, but whatever we are, I don’t want to worry it away.

17

Enzo

If someone had told me a few months ago that I would be so relieved about an alpaca’s positive health update, I’d have assumed they had me confused with someone else. I’ve never been a big animal person. Don’t get me wrong; I like animals, but I never connected to one the way I have with Oliver.