To those other beings who hold llamas so very dear: WARNING: This is therapy for me, so if you don't want to read on stop here.

Today, April 1, 1997, was a very sad day for me. I lost Echo, a beautiful 14.5 month old creature entrusted to me. The details are such:

Yesterday we had some halter training to stand - practicing what we had read on the list. And she was very cooperative and beautiful for every second of it. She is a GET IT ON baby with beautiful banana ears, with delicate tufts that blew as the wind blew.

When I got Echo in October, she was very dear to me. She would present her delicate, food encrusted lips for kisses, ONLY from ME. To say we had bonded would be...uh..an understatement. We went to her first show at Houston Livestock Show & Rodeo, a few months, weeks ago, she took fourth and we were thrilled. She seemed to know that I would protect her and guard her there. She was not a llama that takes easily to new, large crowds. So now that she is gone I take comfort in knowing she will not have to go thorough that.

Everything appeared fine, as I said we did halter training yesterday. She ate, she pooped. She ran a little. And then there was today............... This morning I checked the herd before leaving for work........all appeared fine. As I said I am a new-b, with just less than a year under my belt. To you kind folk, remember this is therapy for me. Well all was fine , I thought.

I was in my car with the engine started when I looked into the pasture: Chiquita was kushed with her one-month-old High Stepper, by her side. What I noticed was Echo's head and neck, she was kushed on the other side of Chiquita. Her neck seemed to me to be WRONG, kind of lolling about. My mom, who lives with me said, "I'll check her after you go." I waited a nano-second & said check her NOW. Before she could go thorough the house and into the pasture, I had gone thorough the brush, heels and all, over the fence & was at Echo's side. In the time it took, moments, Echo's neck was down, she was on her side, and obviously in distress. I checked for an obstruction, none that I could find....but their necks are so long. Her eyes were alert, but she was foaming a little from the mouth, and her front legs were rigid

I called the vet, and in the interim tried gently stretching her legs and turning her from side to side. It still didn't look like we were loosing her, we had gotten ontop of it soooo fast. We loaded her up and away to the waiting vet. I stayed in the back with her, doing team circles and massaging her ears. Singing to her and letting the love just envelope her. I must admit, I was praying at the time. But maybe a long dormant call did not get thorough. About 5 minutes from the vet, she had a mild convulsion. But, she was still breathing, & her eyes looked clear. The entire traveling crew was singing to her.

Then about three minutes from the vet she had another convulsion and then stopped breathing. I tried mouth -to -mouth. But it was not very effective. We tried to jolt her heart by pounding, slapping her chest cavity. I am not saying that I knew what I was doing, but I had to try. It did not work. She died in my embrace in the back of my sisters Suburban, (we had sold our trailer & not found the proper replacement). We were maybe three minutes from the Vet. And she just died. She was still every bit as beautiful, the AC was blowing thorough her wool just as it did in the pasture.

Through the entire trip, I kept thinking/feeling that we had found her soon enough, that she would not die of an obstructed bowel or whatever the final answer will be. I just knew that if I held her well enough, and comforted her well enough, this would not happen. But, yet it did in the back of a silver Suburban driving to Richmond, Texas. I just knew I could keep her with us. We arrived at the Vet's too late, with an obviously dead Echo wrapped in my legs and arms. Still caressing her beautiful face. Oh, those banana ears, and delicate tufts.

It was too late. Nothing to do, except clean up the aftermath. I wondered where had her soul gone, I had felt nothing. I thought maybe I would feel her, but nothing. Now to attend to the details: insurance, necropsy, on & on.

As I said before, this is therapy to me, so don't feel you must read on. We returned home, to drop of some of the support group, one being freshly eleven-years-old and not expected to go the long haul. My boyfriend, Tom, bless his soul arrived to support me. We gathered a few flowers and set off for A&M Diagnostic Lab. Me driving, so I could keep my mind half-occupied. During the hour-long drive, I could look back and see her wool wafting in the breeze, but still I didn't feel Echo's soul. I could see her, but not feel her.

Upon arriving at the A&M Diagnostic Laboratories, we were greeted by caring folks. They said my vet had called and that we were UPSET. I don't know how I could have taken it if they had treated Echo like livestock. The were gentle, having been warned by my vet. I didn't know how to tell them that the flowers needed to go with Echo, so I tucked then under her leg. Still not stiff and rigid. Still like my Echo. But as they transported her, the flowers fell off and the attendant gathered them back up and took them with her.

I must admit that during this part I hid around a corner, but Tom told me that when the flowers fell, they gathered them back up and took them with Echo. I think it was at this point as I set prostrate on the steps, That I felt Echo's soul come and wrap itself around me. It was a gentle hug, an eternal embrace and I hope she will stay apart of me. I dearly hope this. Maybe she will help me communicate with my other llamas, who still need me!

I realize that this is a self-wallowing dissertation, but I needed to write it. Lisa