I must say, it was a really good course, held at the Wellington School of Massage Therapy. Quite a lot of training crammed into the 63 hours of course work. I also liked the fact that the instructor (Richard) was not overly pedantic, and was happy to show us lots of stuff beyond the scope of the course, a great way to see what else is possible.

(Though I do admit a certain fraction of the other stuff he showed to us hit my “crytal-sucker-snake-oil” button, but one of the rules of the class was in fact “I will not contest other people’s world-views.” The class participants ranger from the ultra practical rugby sports massage to much more out there ‘alternative therpy’ types.)

The WSMT is not the only school in town. There is also a massage college in Wellington, and a friend is taking courses there. It sounds like it is much more incremental and narrowly subject-focused there. That would have driven me crazy, but I think it suits her very systematic/detail-oriented personality really well. Luckily we both ended up picking the school right for our personalities.

And if you are wondering, yes, proper training kicks it up way beyond a simple “back rub.” Many of my friends have back problems- a life of sitting at computers in stressful jobs will do that. Or leftovers of injuries. Or other physiological issues.

Case in point, at Canterbury Faire I worked on a friends’ neck for 10 minutes a night for 4 consecutive nights. On the fourth night she tilted her head back, and looked at the stars, then said “wow, I haven’t been able to do that for 10 years.”

It’s nice to be able to help. Plus putting a tip jar out at CF earned me a few dollars.

No surprise that many people seem happy to contribute towards me buying a proper massage table of my own.

Slow was from a litter of four kittens. His mother, a slim little cat belonging to Michael, got out for a “night on the town” back in Philadelphia. The kittens spent their first few weeks in the flat of our friend Trent. The four were given kitten-names of Magellan (first to circumnavigate the room), Spot & Stripe (two tabby cats that different only on a small part of the belly), and of course Slow Top. Slow was the smallest, and a week behind developmentally. Elizabeth gave him his most awesome kitten-name.

We knew Slow was the one for us as he sat, as a little 4 week old, and made hilarious snorting noises as he clumsily tried to clean his little paw. We took home Slow Top and Spot- who was later renamed Kiko. We took them home when they were perhaps a bit too young, which might explain why the imprinted on us so strongly. We would sadly lose Kiko too young, at age six to a vaccine-induced fibrosarcoma.

Slow always had weird medical issues. By 6 he was on multiple heart meds (ACE inhibitors and beta-blockers), and had been the subject of many a test. I remember when a new vet at Charles Bradley’s practice in Arlington Massachusetts met him for the first time and went “this is Slow Top? Wow. I have heard about him”. His little medical file was quite thick, even back then. Honestly, when he went on the heart meds so young, I steeled myself for him not making it to age ten.

He started in Philly, and came with us in our move up to Mystic street in Boston, there he battled royally with Basil for dominance of the house. He then went on to our first house on Locust street in Burlington, where he learned to love exploring the great outside. Then it was onwards and across the ocean and to New Zealand. I don’t think he liked his month in quarantine, or the first few months in a little flat on Cambridge Terrace with no outside access, but then he got to the farm. Yeah, he loved the farm. And when he arrived he was still young and healthy enough to go out and explore.

Even as age took its toll, he remained alpha-cat. As he got weaker, he maintained position by fighting spirit at first (he and Jake had some good scraps when Jake first arrived), and later the other cats learned to treat him as the “respected elder” of the house. They probably took subtle, and not-so-subtle, cues from us that Slow was still in charge and should be treated with respect.

I expect Slow’s death will really shake up social order among the cats. He was the hub, the one cat all the others got along with. Who will rise to dominance in his absence?

Slow began the slide into old age about three years ago. He weight started slipping, and his pharmacopia of drugs started increasing (heart, thyroid, arthritis, occasional liver meds, plus steroids to help with the guts). He most probably has Lymphoma, which is going to be the ultimate “cause” of his demise.

But through it all, and to the very end, he remained “Slow Top”. A special cat indeed, and a memorable one. The nose licking alone endeared him (or not!) in the minds of many a visitor, and he was nose licking to the last- though you had to present the nose at the end, as he lacked the strength to pin you down and mercilessly exfoliate your nostrils. He would still take any lap available, and would pick-pick-pick at your sleeve to get your attention if you dared to look elsewhere.

By Christmas we could see that his time was getting very short. The vet gave him “days” just before Christmas, but he rebounded a bit and managed another month. But we knew one day we would have to make the decision to end it (though I admit up to the end I hoped nature would give me the “easy way out” and that he would die quietly in his sleep). He was down to 3 kg, less than half his healthy adult weight (and to think he was once endearingly known as “meat cat”). For me, it was vitally important that he not suffer. I wanted to make sure he was still “Slow” up to the end, and not a husk of misery. That was a terrible lesson I learned with the last 12 hours of Flopette’s life two years ago.

Does this sadness within me come from an unknown evolutionary advantage of some long-past ancestor, or does it arise from something else? I don’t think that can be known.

Slow Top will be missed, and remembered (and remembered by people around the world- quite the accomplishment for a bog-standard little grey tabby. Heck, he even was the source of his own verb to “slow-topify a cat”. He was even on the front page of the Philadelphia Enquirer).

Slow was a cat that acted more like a dog, and thought he was a human. He was “special” in many ways. He had a good run, and now his body now rests in a sunny spot in the garden. RIP Slow.

???

Bemused by mental images of stereotypical JAPs dripping with bling and glittery mascara, I had to ask him to repeat it, like, three times before I figured out the word was “dew”.

This after not that long ago being informed that another co-worker’s favorite book was “June”. You know, by Frank Herbert.

Oy vey.

We took the opportunity to take animals walkies on two occasions, once to Battle Hill Farm Forest Park on Boxing Day (the park is about 20 minutes from here- and a good choice as troublesome dogs are forbidden- and shot on site by the ranger!), and on New Year’s Day along the beach at QE Park at Mackay’s Crossing.

For the Boxing Day trip the extra excitement came form the fact that we tried on Hob’s saddle and bags- he did quite well, only occasionally forgetting he was extra-wide and scraping them on bushes and gates. Tam decided to experiment and hooked Opa’s lead to the back of Hob’s saddle, and he followed in train with narry a complaint (well, at the very end they got a bit stroppy when they were tired, could see the trailer, and wanted to eat grass and/or go home).

On New Years day we took 5 of our boys, including the llamas, and met up with a bunch of other camelid owner/breeders at the beach. Two other llamas were there, as were two baby (4 and 6 month) old Suris. Very cute little lads, and so tiny next to the llamas! It seems everyone enjoyed the beach walk very much. Next time I willl give more than 24 hours notice, and hopefully we will have plenty more people along. My goal is 20 camelids for the next beach walk.

We have also had our final two cria for the “first wave.” Jasmine dropped a nice little fawn boy (Copperplate) on December 30th, and then Concetta gave us another boy (5 in a row!) on January 4th (Bookman). We now have about 6 weeks until our second wave of cria is due. If I weren’t still bottle-feeding Marlett, I could relax a bit…

We also sent off three more boys as pets. Jasper, Gungnir and Clarent will now be living in the home-paddock of a 1200 acre S&B farm up in Taihape. I look forward to visiting them at some point in the future.

I was preparing to head into town this morning, getting into the ute, when I looked up and saw Tessa on the ridge, about 100 meters away. My instincts immediately said something was up. It is not unusual for heavily pregnant females to “act funny” in their last month or so. They groan. They stand in strange postures. They lie down- often in weird positions. They get that “this enormous parasite inside me is squishing my organs and kicking my bladder” look. In this case there was just something different about Tessa, so I went up and checked. Sure enough, she was in labour.

So I call Maggie, as her oldest daughter Maria (age 10) wants to grow up and be a vet, and this is a great time to see something “agricultural” and learn lots.

I go back up to check on Tessa, and while I am staring at her, Evita walks by, with a head sticking out! Seems she is in labour, too!

The two gave birth 10 minutes apart. Though Evita had a head start, Tessa managed to get her baby on the ground first. Maggie and kids arrived a few minutes later- so the kids got to see freshly born alpaca, see a placenta drop, and generally learn lots about newborns. (And they loved it, as far as I can tell.)

Two girls! In ten minutes! Woot!

And I think Tessa’s new cria, Raavi, is probably the cutest cria we have ever had. Her little white boots, they slay me.

But that’s not all. It has been a busy couple of weeks. On Friday the 11th, Sugar (one of Bruce’s animals) dropped a lovely white boy, with the temporary name of “Saccharine”.

Then on Sunday the 13th , Cindy went into labour just as we were finishing up the matings and preparing to shear. It was very endearing, she wanted us there for the birth. She followed us around, and if we both tried to leave, she would hummmm most insistently! She gave birth to a lovely little light fawn girl! A Pinocchio cria of our own!

Then on Wednesday the 16th Boo gave us a brown girl! (Another Fred cria this time.) I ended up having to help pull the little girl out, as Boo didn’t seem to be trying that hard, and the labour had gone on long enough. After losing Yale 18 months ago, I decided to take no chances and began feeding little Marlett plenty of colostrum. In the days that followed, I switched her over to milk, and continue to provide plenty of supplemental nutrition. This will be Boo’s last cria, it’s off to the retirement paddock for her.

And finally, this evening we delivered 3 pet boys to a couple up the coast! Pointer is off to a new life, along with Kusunagi and Ridill. While the place is smaller (only about an acre of paddock for the ‘paca), I hope that the new owners will get in the habit of taking them walkies around the neighborhood. I expect everyone, human and camelid, would find that entertaining!

On top of this we are also selling animals- using Trade Me once again. You can definitely see that the market has slowed considerably since last year. When we put the advert up last time, we had multiple calls within 24 hours. This time it is days or weeks before calls, and we are getting many more tire-kickers.

That being said, we have sold 3 boys to a couple up the road in Pukerua bay. Contract has been signed, and delivery is just waiting for them to do a bit more work on their place (removing a few ornamental plants that are known to be or might be toxic). We also sold our first female! We delivered Topsy to a lovely woman over in Mangaroa on Tuesday night. And then yesterday Topsy dropped a beautiful little brown girl. Lucky purchaser! She instantly gets a female cria- and a Pinocchio offspring to boot! (His first one! We have 5 more due to him this year, hopefully we will get a few girls, too.)

We also sold some stud services (with Hyouki) to the woman who purchased Topsy. This is also nice new business.

Once we finish shearing our own animals we will probably do some hearing around the district. There used to be 3 local alpaca-shearers. One moved away. Another is not shearing this year, as she is super-busy launching a new business. That leaves Brent, and he is booked solid. Shearing might be a great way to get to know other local breeders, and maybe sell a few stud services, females, or more pet-boys along the way.

Courier, born last Friday:

Courier, whose mother’s name means “Travels by night”, has the distinction of being the first ever cria from two “Rampant” parents — Isra and Hyouki. He looks just like his dad !

Baskerville, born two days ago:

Baskerville (Sharon inadvertently picked the name of this one) was born at 10.25 kilos — 6-7 is more usual for us. He’s a *big* baby. Stephen had to give Minnie a bit of help getting him out, and is helping out with the feeding a bit as well, since that’s a bit much for a new mum to keep up with. I swear, he makes me think of those fairy tales where the child “reached the age of twenty years/ when others aged but two”. At 24 hours old, he was already bigger than Wingding and running and playing with the other boys. He’s got a really… odd face for a cria, too. Like, he has smallish ears, and smallish eyes, and this little narrow muzzle with a little black nose — all on his big bullum head (though maybe that’s just because his fleece has started out so long?). I’m not sure what he looks like, but it’s not quite a cria.

Finally, Cotton On (actual name pending), born today:

Cute wee thing, from one of the agisted girls.

Locals have certainly gotten into the spirit of the holiday, stuffing themselves with Turkey, the trimmings, and pie, pie, pie!

We had 19 people in total this year (3 had to drop at the last minute), and if we keep growing at this rate we will need the (hopefully soon to be built) barn just to hold the event.

I am glad Kerry brought her experimental beer-basted chicken, as the two Turkeys (one from me, the other from Alan) would not have been sufficient otherwise.

We had 5 pies for 19 people. Desert ended up being a multi-course meal all its own.

My mothers “candied sweet potatoes” were, as always, a great hit. I changed the butter with Canola spread, which made them dairy safe. They were, however, very *not* pancreas safe, so diabetics beware. Best description of them was “it tastes just like warm sweet-potato ice cream.”

And the weather-gods were even nice enough to give us a fabulous day for it, a nice break in otherwise quite grey and rainy weather.

And the first cria from Hyouki, too !