Alpaca

– It's difficult to know what to make of the weather at the moment.
– How do you mean?
– There seems to be more of it than is strictly necessary. It's either too hot, or too wet, or too thundery; and all within the space of a few hours.
– Well, variety is the spice of life, they say. You should be grateful: it would get very dull otherwise. As it is, every trip outdoors is like a version of Russian roulette. Only without the bullet. I hope.
– That's the point. You never know how to plan your day. Or what to wear. Or even what to have for tea.
– I didn't realise you lived your life so attuned to the passing seasons. Granted you only eat salad when it's a heatwave. But your wardrobe seemed to be pretty unchanging – stagnant, you might say – regardless of the temperature.
– Things do vary. In subtle ways.
– Anyway, I managed to get out on the bike yesterday without getting drenched. A gentle cycle through some leafy country lanes. Warmed by the late afternoon sunshine. There seemed to be a lot of exotic wildlife about.
– How exotic?
– Llamas. Alpacas. That sort of thing.
– Not really indigenous to these parts.
– I know. But they seem increasingly common. Usually in enclosed fields, rather than trotting unfettered along the road.
– Like pets.
– A lot like pets. But there is always the risk that one day they will escape into the wild. And breed.
– Like parrots. And wallabies. And alligators.
– Not so sure about the alligators. Have you see alligators?
– I don't want to see them. That's the point.