I’ve always been tall, and I’ve always been handsome. As far back as I can remember, in fact. However, if the truth be known, I was sometimes difficult in my younger years. I ran a bit wild with my llama friend Lucky. We ganged up on the shearer and spat and spat until we could not find any more spit to give. It was kind of a sport.
But then Lucky died. I really was beside myself and I couldn’t believe it when I heard that the very shearer whom I’d so enjoyed tormenting with my spit and nonsense … wanted to bring me to her home. I felt odd at first. I mean, everyone does when they are in a totally new place. But I’ve found friends here, my meals are regular and tasty, and I always have something to think about. And you know what? I have no desire to spit anymore. Isn’t that grand!?