Horse of a Different Color

Bessie Anne accepts with equanimity almost all the creatures on the farm.  She lies quietly outside the goat pen while I'm in the barn.  She no longer chases after deer, and lets the turkeys walk right by.  Except for bedtime, when she herds from the fence perimeter, she ignores the chickens.  With a long-suffering expression, she lets the cats rub up on her and wash her face.  Just to keep her hand in, she makes an occasional dash at a ground squirrel, but she knows she isn't going to catch one.  Horses hold no interest for her.  The critters that throw her for a loop, even after all the years they've lived next door, are my neighbor's llamas.  The Push Me-Pull Yous seem to surprise her every time and she gives a couple of barks whenever their heads appear on her horizon.  She looks at me with eyes that say, "What are they?"  For their part, the tall, arrogant llamas look down their patrician noses at my little girl and simply can't be bothered.