By now I’m sure you’ve heard about the llama drama that unfolded recently at an assisted living complex in Sun City, Ariz.

Arriving at the complex, a couple of llamas were there for animal therapy with the residents when they sprang loose from their trailer and ran off. They were captured, and all is good in Sun City again.

This llama drama brought back memories of the origin of one of my strangest nicknames. Back in the early 1990s when I was the associate editor of a newspaper and was writing a weekly column, llamas were just beginning to break out in popularity as a farm enterprise.

No one knew what a good llama was supposed to look like, no one knew what they were used for and pricing them was next to impossible. I posed the question to the readers about the credibility of raising and selling llamas as a profitable farm business. I just didn’t think they could measure up to the longevity or profitability of other major livestock enterprises.

It didn’t take long after that column was published before I was greeted with an onslaught of hate mail from llama breeders from coast to coast. And this was before social media or email or even the Internet.

The llama breeders published my column in one of their breed publications and were encouraged to “set me straight.” And they were relentless.

As a young writer I had very thin skin and as the hate mail poured in, I sat in my office and cried. And cried. And cried some more. Every day brought a new letter from llama lovers telling me things like, if I were nearby their llamas would spit on me for sure.

After my boss assured me that this was a good thing and I should be happy that I wrote something that caused people to react, I decided not to retreat, but to reload and battle back.

It was an interesting few weeks as my own llama drama unfolded. I learned a lot about llamas as a result of that single column. I was told they make great jogging partners, golf caddies and imprint well with people.

It also gave most readers a reason to laugh, and it stuck me with a nickname that I still hear 25 years later: The Llama Mama.

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of Farm World. Readers with questions or comments for Melissa Hart may write to her in care of this publication.