His Name is Rico

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The phone rang during that busy hour when dinner is almost ready and there are three other things on the go that can’t be ignored (homework monitoring, something in your eye causing great distress and a little dog waiting patiently to be let out.)

I didn’t recognize the number.

“Hello!” I barked. I had too much to do to bother with a stranger on the phone.

“So, they said I can have one the llamas! His name is Rico and he’s really, REALLY cute! Can I? Can I get a llama???”

“Absolutely,” I said, rolling my eyes. I was far too busy for this. “You should get a llama.”

The response was a high-pitched squeal.

“Hello,” I said. “Hello?”

I shrugged, hung up and peered into the oven, hoping the chicken was done.

“What was that about?” asked my sailor.

“Wrong number. Someone asking if she could get a llama. She sounded pretty young.”

I poured us two glasses of wine and sat down next to him.

He looked at me.

“You do realize you just gave some teenage girl permission to get a pet llama.”

Oh. My. Gosh.

I’ve heard pets enrich our lives. I hope it’s true.

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