The Road to Happiness is Paved with Alpacas
Once again the peace train has left me standing at the station with an unpunched ticket. Whenever anything new and enjoyable comes along, I'm always the last to know. First it was inter-league play, which I accidentally discovered one night during a Cardinals-Royals game on ESPN: I thought I had slipped through a wormhole and ended up at the 1985 World Series. Now it's the alpaca, that furry source of happiness, serenity, and three stomachs. I had no idea that chewing cud and soft sweaters were the secrets to tranquility.
The commercials for ilovealpacas.com are everywhere: Escape the tensions of modern life by becoming an alpaca rancher. Alpaca farms are pastoral hubs of honesty and inner peace. If you want to find out what really matters in life, raise alpacas. I'm pretty sure those were the same promises that convinced me to try Tae-Bo. And at least Tae-Bo didn't require the shoveling of dung.
I wish I could happily jump into the alpaca fray, but I'm confused by all the talk of trading in the rat race for the alpaca race. Not that you can race alpacas. Well, I suppose you could, but I don't know of any OTB facilities accepting wagers for the Peruvian Derby. If I quit my job to raise alpacas, I still need to pay the bills and put food on the table. How do I do that with alpacas? One way to put the food on the table is to, um, put the alpaca on the table. It doesn't seem like turning my new furry friend into cheeseburgers is going to make me happy. It's not going to make the alpaca very happy either.
The other source of revenue is the alpaca fiber, prized for its warmth and softness. It's so comfortable, even the alpacas like to wear it. And herein lies my challenge. How do I separate the alpaca fiber from the alpaca? Maybe I missed this part on the website, but I don't think alpacas jump into the barber chair and tell Sam to "take a little off the top for a new blanket." One needs to remove the alpaca fiber a bit more intentionally, and that means shearing the poor beast. Do you know where to buy a pair of alpaca shears? I don't know where to buy a pair of alpaca shears. In fact I've never seen a pair of alpaca shears. And if I should be so fortunate as to find a pair of alpaca shears on eBay, where do I go to get my alpaca shears cleaned and sharpened? I checked the yellow pages. Alpaca Shearing Supplies and Repair is not a heading.
Even if I stumble upon a pair of alpaca shears, I'm not sure how to approach the animal. I obviously need to gain its trust, which will take time, and I don't think I'm the guy to follow the advice on the website: "Alpacas are small and gentle enough to travel short distances in the family minivan."
Maybe a roadtrip with an alpaca builds camaraderie, but I'm a bit skeptical. Another website suggests that alpacas are frightened by loud noises and will spit up stomach contents as a defense mechanism. So the alpaca and I are heading out to Ruby Tuesdays for a milkshake and a little chitchat when the pick-up truck next to us backfires. Stomach number one does its job. Then the guy behind me honks because the light has turned green. Stomach number two to the rescue. I scream like a 4th grader when I get a whiff from the back seat. Stomach number three joins the dance. Three stomachs. Three puddles of cud soaking into the seat cushions of a Chrysler Town & Country. Stress-free living has eluded me once again.
Finally, there is the cost. As the website puts it, "alpacas are not inexpensive, ranging from $10,000 to $40,000 for breeding females and $5,000 to $35,000 for high quality males." But the site is quick to point out that many alpaca breeders offer financing options right there on the farm. Great. Now I'm standing next to an alpaca while I haggle with the rancher who is writing down a number and taking it back to his manager. What is that going to do to the alpaca's self-esteem? We'll be driving home from the farm and I'll see him in the rearview mirror, glaring at me with those big alpaca eyes. He's thinking, "Really? That's what I'm worth to you?" I'll try and break the ice with some stupid comment about the Cubs playing the White Sox, but it'll be over before it even starts. He'll just stare out the window, chewing. And I'll think to myself, I wonder if alpacas like Tae-Bo?
