Feetie was Paige’s favorite female llama. After Feetie passed away in 2009, Paige wrote this about her in issue 92’s editorial of Llama Life II.
“My favorite female died in my arms in October - two weeks shy of her 22nd birthday. Feetie Pajamas was an amazing llama with a strong will to live. With the exception of shattering her rear left cannon bone at the age of twelve, she’d never been sick a day in her life. Our wonderful vets performed surgery (pins and all) on her leg in our barn. She was in a cast up to her hip. It was a long shot, but eight weeks later she was good as new. All the while nursing a young cria who gained nearly a pound a day. She never complained and never slowed down.
Feetie was the first llama we bought at auction. It was the 1988 Hartman sale. She was six months old, yet to be registered and unceremoniously dubbed “Chocolate Sundae” for the sale. She was a waif of a thing. We bonded instantly. She was my llama and I named her Feetie Pajamas.
That same fall we took her and a few others to the first Virginia State Fair llama show. There she was named Grand Champion Female by judge John Mallon. Thus began a champion tradition. Feetie was never shown again, but every one of her nine babies earned her a blue ribbon in Produce of Dam making her one of the first ALSA Produce of Dam Champions. She produced six females and three boys. All earned blue ribbons in halter and five went on to be multiple champions. Her most notable cria is The Spin Doctor. Others include Pajama Party, Pajama Game, Little Feet, Truly Scrumptious and Footprint. Feetie’s impact on our breeding program is profound.
The herd misses her too. Although not quite the oldest (we have two 24-year-olds and one 23-year-old) she was our alpha female. She was gentle but assertive and commanded respect. The little waif had grown to be a statuesque icon of a champion llama. We had a special bond. I could call her name and she’d weave through the herd to come to me. If I sat in the pasture she’d join me instantly - pressing against me for chest rubs. Then one morning she didn’t feel well and the next day she was gone. But, she’s not really gone. I have five generations of Feetie in my pastures. I have rovings from her fiber and stashes of her fine brick red fleece still in bags. I have projects planned for this winter and hope to create something special in her memory. For that, I am grateful.”
Feetie’s legacy lives on today in her granddaughter, Elsa.