I've been watching a programme called The Yorkshire Vet. Set in the town where James Herriot (under his real name) practised. It's provided me with solace over the last few months as a haven of compassion and care towards animals who can't tell us when they're in pain.
One segment had a vet visiting a llama trekking centre where a llama named Dobby had somehow managed to fracture his jaw. One tricky procedure later and Dobby, who'd been very stoical throughout, looked out with mournful eyes as the vet said, 'you'll have to keep him in for a while.'
This llama fluttered his eyelashes to no avail. Isolation is what followed. Dobby hummed, there's no other word for it, he hummed.
In that short section, I'd lost my heart.
Imagine my joy in a later programme to see him released back out into the field to be united with his friends.
And gambol like a lamb.
But oh those eyelashes.