Walking into the field, holding a glass of wine, I gently leaned against Pavlova. She nestled into my shoulder and I instantly felt calm. ‘You know how it is,’ I mumbled into her woolly neck. Pavlova was one of my seven alpacas.
I loved their quirky personalities, their listening capabilities (yes!) and their soothing presence. And I needed them more than ever. My lovely mum, Joan, then 87, had late-stage dementia and, while she still lived independently, I was with her every day, caring for her.
It was 2008 and the loving, smart woman who’d raised me had become violent sometimes. I knew it wasn’t her, but it was a chaotic, emotional time.
My husband Robert, now 70, was brilliant and had taken on more of the running of our…
