“We have to carry on our mission for nurturing the people of this island. The marijuana helps them, soothes their minds and bodies when they’re broken,” Aunt Camellia said.

“We’re going to Antarctica on pot,” Aunt Iris said. “At least, partially. There is no way we can sell enough pot to pay for the whole thing. Seeing and studying icebergs, ocean currents, and penguins is expensive. I’m the chief financial officer, so I know.”

They had a chief financial officer for their pot business? Geez. What was my mother, the chief executive? I groaned. Was there going to be a board of directors next? How had it come to this?

I argued, they shut me down. Alpaca Joe spit. Virginia Alpaca made a purring sort of sound. Sundance looked up at me like, “We tried,” and the goats bleated. Wait. The bleating was too close to me. Somehow, some way, Mr. Bob and Trixie Goat had escaped again, and they skittered around the edge of the alpacas’ fence and right up to us to join the conversation.

“How did you get out?” I semi-shouted. “I can’t believe this.”

I would have to chase them to get them back into their pen. They kicked up their heels and ran.

“Please stop selling pot,” I said to my mother and aunts, before Sundance and I ran after the naughty goats. “Chief Ass Burn is a problem.”

My mother smiled, that mysterious sadness still there, though. “No one will tell him.”

Aunt Camellia said, winding her curls on top of her head, “I’ve already put multiple curses on him with my vengeful candle.”

Aunt Iris said, “He knows he’s not allowed on this property. But I think I’ll make a sign and nail it to the big oak right at the turnoff on Robbins Drive.”

* * *

I spent over two hours caring for and visiting with my animals after catching Mr. Bob and Trixie Goat. Butch and Cassidy ran around with their tongues out chasing squirrels, but Sundance stuck right by me. I do have a favorite, and it is Sundance, but I would never tell, or show, my other animals that. I reached down and pet his head. He licked my hand, then stood up for a one-armed hug.

Mr. Bob and Trixie Goat climbed on top of the roof of their little house and danced around as if they enjoyed hearing their own hooves tap. Shakespeare and Jane Austen chased each other and came right over for me to pet their heads. The cats circled my legs. The alpacas wandered around their home. I think Virginia Alpaca likes to play hard to get. It drives Alpaca Joe nuts. The lambs trotted out of their pen in a little line, as usual. So obedient.

“Hello, Padre, Momma, Jay Rae, Raptor, and The TMan.”