As I slinked my way through the thick foliage between a horse corral and an unused paddock, a gray shape caught my eye. It was the cat from before. The way he walked, he was totally full of himself today. I growled and let out a small hiss. I moved along the grass again, nearing my house. I froze when the storm door of the trailer slammed and an ever familiar wheelchair flew down the ramp connecting the deck to the earth below.
I flattened my ears and turned away. I didn't want to see her. Not yet.
I hissed and fought back the tears as I slinked forward, passing through thinning foliage, over hard gravel again - damned shoeless paws - around a protruding fence and into the soft grass of the orchard. I paused for a sniff of the lone fig in the orchard, a tree I had carefully selected and planted myself. I gave it a grin and tried moving along.
Gaah!
Not one step later, I felt a knot somewhere in my fur. I groaned and leaned in to try preening my fur for the first time. First, I stuck my tongue out and hesitated. I was about to willingly lick up hair! Yuck! I flinched back, determined not to touch tongue to fur. Yet when I tried moving again, I felt the same uncomfortable pull. I sighed. I was not getting out of this.
So, I plopped my plot down. I swallowed and after a couple flinches, took a slow, long, agonizing lick, collecting everything from dirt to grass to fur to water up into my mouth. I let the conglomeration hang there on my tongue as I fought the urge to dry heave. I could not have been more disgusted.
I went to wipe my tongue with a paw to avoid swallowing the mess. As soon as paw hit tongue, though, I heaved. I had tromped through a pile of llama feces behind the barn, in a manure pile left for fertilizer. Some of it had gotten wedged between the pinches of my paw-fingers, and now resided on my tongue.
I spat. I hissed. I heaved. I coughed. I wanted the vile taste off my tongue. I tried licking dirt. I walked back to the rocks through my discomfort and rolled a chalky pebble in my mouth. I sucked on a leaf from an apple tree nearby. Nothing worked. So, after trying to spit out what I could, which just spread the taste over the rest of the orifice, I resumed work on my fur. That knot was not going to best me now, especially after that fury-inducing battle with llama pellets. I kneaded that knot, slowly working the hairs into a straight line, then complete cleaning it with a few licks. It took me nearly half an hour to clear the knot from my back as I learned my fur and its patterns and how comfortable having it different ways was.
Finally, I felt comfortable.
I shook myself off and smirked. Finally...
After that was taken care of, I bolted for the food dish. I was ravenous, and I was looking forward to a good breakfast after my morning of hell. I was sure my day had gotten as bad as it could get.
Then I met the Llama Mafia.
And my day got a lot worse.