Chief Hospitality Officer

She arrived with a job description she wrote herself: greet every visitor, do not let the humans out of your sight, supervise every outdoor project, and make sure nobody enjoys a sunset without proper canine oversight.

She believes personal space is optional, sticks her nose into every conversation, and needs an emotional support human during thunderstorms.

Equal parts Australian Shepherd, concierge, and neighborhood watch director.

Director of Small Man Energy

Lil' Wayne may be the smallest alpaca on the hill, but he has never once considered that information relevant.

He approaches life with the confidence of a creature at least three times his size and sees absolutely no reason to defer to anyone on matters of herd management, visitor screening, or general operations.

He's opinionated, expressive, and always seems to have something to say about whatever is happening nearby.

Volume and certainty have apparently been substituted for size.

As compensation strategies go, it's been remarkably effective.

Head of Security & Self-Importance

Prince Richard is an alpaca of distinguished taste and questionable humility.

He was named Prince Richard because "Richard" alone did not adequately capture the level of authority he intended to wield.

He oversees the herd with the quiet confidence of someone who has never paid a bill in his life but remains deeply concerned with how things are being run around here.

Accepts compliments as tribute.

Director of External Relations

Dropped off by a client and immediately rejected the concept of living indoors full time.

He patrols the property, supervises outdoor projects, and carries himself with the confidence of a cat who once boxed professionally in Brooklyn.

His name is Muscles.
His accent is New York.

His residency status remains flexible.

Director of Selective Socializing

Rosie likes people significantly more than she likes other goats.

While the rest of the herd debates hay quality and farm politics, Rosie can usually be found quietly following a human around like an oddly-shaped dog with hooves.

She prefers scratches over socializing, companionship over competition, and would choose sitting next to a person over joining group activities almost every time.

Technically she's a goat.

Emotionally, she's about 85% Labrador.

Muscles

Director of Extra Lives

Lucky earned his name early.

As a kitten, he disappeared one day and returned with a puncture wound in his neck after what we suspect was an unsuccessful kidnapping attempt by an owl with ambitions that exceeded its carrying capacity.

He survived, recovered, and has spent the years since becoming the gentlest, politest cat imaginable.

No drama. No destruction. No orange-cat behavior.

Just quiet companionship, impeccable manners, and the soft confidence of someone who already used up one of his nine lives and decided not to waste the rest.

Technically an outdoor cat.

Spiritually, a tiny Victorian gentleman in a black fur coat.

Lucky Ducky

Greta

Her Royal Highness

Greta is our oldest Australian Shepherd and the only member of the household with formal training and professional credentials.

She is intelligent, disciplined, and possesses the quiet confidence of someone who knows she could run this entire operation if she had to.

Thankfully for the rest of us, she mostly chooses not to.

Years of training gave her impeccable manners, excellent judgment, and very little patience for nonsense.

She isn't dramatic about her authority.

She simply has it.

The Gentleman Farmer

Todd is large enough to be intimidating in theory and gentle enough to immediately ruin the illusion in practice.

He moves through the world with remarkable politeness, impeccable manners, and an unwavering belief that Dale is the most interesting person on the property.

If Dale is outside, Todd would prefer to be nearby.

If Dale is working, Todd is supervising.

If Dale sits down, Todd assumes the meeting has officially begun.

A gentle giant in every sense of the phrase.

Todd

Sammer Jammer

The Quiet Observer

Sam arrived with his late brother Ralphie from a testing facility many years ago, carrying a story we may never know in full.

Where Ralphie was the extrovert, Sam has always preferred observation over participation.

He watches.

He assesses.

He quietly takes inventory of visitors, projects, and whatever chaos is unfolding on the hill that day.

He's thoughtful, steady, and possesses the kind of calm presence that makes you feel like he's seen enough of life to know that most things work themselves out eventually.

The elder statesman of the alpaca herd and keeper of many memories.

The Court Jester

Buck is Honey's littermate and quite possibly the happiest creature to ever exist.

His enthusiasm for life is so overwhelming that his entire body participates in greetings, earning him the nickname Wiggles because standing still has simply never felt like a realistic option.

He approaches every day with the energy of someone who just heard we're going to the beach, even if we're actually just walking to the mailbox.

He loves everyone.
Almost everyone.

The cats, unfortunately, continue to receive occasional reminders that they are living on borrowed time, usually delivered via an enthusiastic display of teeth that seems far more dramatic than dangerous.

Mostly, though, Buck is joy in Australian Shepherd form.

Buck-man

Sammer Jammer

Walter

Director of Strategic Operations

Walter arrived alongside his brother Buddy after their well-documented delinquent phase in Boscobel, where the two reportedly treated fences as suggestions and made regular unauthorized trips to the local 7-Eleven.

If Buddy was the muscle of the operation, Walter was always the brains.

He's every bit the opposite of his brother having all the loyalty and companionship of a dog, just with a slightly more entrepreneurial approach to rules and boundaries.

A dog-goat with a suspiciously advanced understanding of human routines and weak points in security systems.

Director of Human Resources

Pancake is sweet, friendly, and generally agreeable.

She has exactly one boundary.
And that boundary is Dale.

More specifically:
Do not look at my man or I will ram you.
Thank you for your cooperation.

She keeps a close eye on his whereabouts, inserts herself into conversations she wasn't invited to, and maintains a level of vigilance that can only be described as impressive commitment to the relationship.

Possessive? Maybe.
Loyal? Absolutely.

The rest of us have simply accepted that Dale belongs to Pancake now and we're all just lucky to be allowed visitation rights.

Pancake

Director of Parole Violations

Buddy arrived with his brother Walter after developing a reputation for escaping their previous accommodations in Boscobel and making regular trips to the local 7-Eleven.

For what purpose, no one knows.

Cigarettes.
Mountain Dew.
Lottery tickets.

The truth may never come out.

While they continue to object strongly to fences, gates, and the general concept of confinement, they've mostly settled into a system that resembles the town drunk on The Andy Griffith Show who simply wandered back into jail when he was ready.

They don't want to be locked up.

They just like knowing they could leave if they wanted to. 

Buddy

Director of Identity & Public Relations

For a period of time, we believed Chaserina was Chase.

This assumption held right up until the day "he" was sedated for a routine neutering appointment and everyone involved discovered there had been a significant administrative misunderstanding.

No gender transition.
Just a clerical error.

Shortly thereafter, Chaserina apparently decided her reputation needed immediate repair and set out to prove herself beyond all reasonable doubt by presenting us with four kittens.

A mic drop, really.
Her one and only litter.

Since then, she's returned to her regularly scheduled programming of motherhood, quiet judgment, and pretending none of this was ever her fault.

Chaserina

Leaving Room for My Miniature Cow

Mini-Cow