The (Not So) Great Escape

Fugitive number one:

Fugitive numbers two, three and four:

Good News: The donkeys ran away today!

Bad News: Aunt Marilyn and Mother brought them back.




During the course of barn hygiene, donkeys slithered through the open gate into the back pasture. A section of fence had been knocked down, and before Aunt Marilyn knew it, there were miniature donkeys on the loose in a respectable neighborhood.

Mother rushed from wherever it is she goes all day, and met up with Aunt Marilyn and the donkeys cavorting in random yards well down the hill and far from home. While I and part of the Red Mare Herd grazed in the now open back pasture, Mother came into sight tugging one of the jennets behind her. She hustled the donkey to the Small and went to the barn for another wee halter. Julia's pathetic donkey cries rang out, and Mother encouraged her to tell those other donkeys to hurry home.

By the time Mother traipsed again through the back field, the remaining fugitives were in the closest neighbor's yard, and relatively easily secured.


I think they enjoyed their party... they are out there right now debating another attempt...

We've got everything here we would want... why leave?

I not only question the intelligence of the donkeys in this escapade, but the humans as well.

Why go out of your way to bring this back?

Really?

Dishabille

Hey, Bif! We have company!

We do?

Oh... Hi.

Uhh... I wasn't expecting anyone... 

The place is a mess.

Good help can be hard to find, you know.

I could straighten up a little.

There, that's better.

Uh, let's just head outside, shall we?

 Go on, I'm right behind you.

Umm, pardon the donkeys.

They're kind of everywhere.

And apparently, they itch. I'm sure there is a joke in there somewhere...

Julia

Clementine

I've resigned myself to their existence...

I mean, I  guess they are kind of cute in a way...

If you're in to that sort of thing...

Byyyeee!!

Take me with you?

The Bad Mother

Hrrmph. Instead of coming up to visit me, Mother is entertaining a visitor at home. Mr. Cruzan, to be precise.

Real men wear pink

She says that her work is "stressful"... well, being your horse is no walk in the park either, Mother.

There are swarms of donkeys everywhere you look

Mother says there are only four of them, but I swear they are everywhere.

Especially in MY hay!!

Since you've taken to a life of despotic alcoholism, I think I might have to adjust my life more to my liking.

You know, simplify things.

Guess what would be the first to go?

Operation Assimilation

There has been much ruckus and fuss going on up here. Donkey has gotten a herd of his own.

He was donkey-less for a long time, and seemed to think he was a horse. I've known all along that he was NOT a horse, but Donkey had to go through an adjustment period as he rediscovered his inner donkey.

He spent much time torn between two worlds, not sure whether to cling to the familiar, aka Bert, or return to his donkey heritage.

I have been giving him shoves.

His new herd is rather picturesque...

Julia

Ellie Mae and Clementine

Le Pauvre Ane

So, Uncle Jeff came up today. About three minutes before Mother heard the truck, I heard it and started dancing around in excitement. It's a sound I know well from my stays at Uncle Jeff's while my face was worked on, and I knew what it meant: I was going to my Happy Place.

Yet again, Mother was too engrossed in the proceedings to take photos. Well, of me, anyway. She did end up taking some pictures of my fat donkey.

Hrrrmphh.

 That's because my fat donkey was sent to his Happy Place as well. Unlike my enjoyment of the Happy Place... well, unfortunately for donkey, a few hours later he had a bit of a bad trip.

Donkey started shivering, muscles a-tremble. A quick call to the vet and a relaying of symptoms seemed to confirm that my fat donkey was having trouble thermoregulating and was very cold. His ears (and other junk) were quite icy. In an attempt to help warm him, one of the aunts brought up a blanket.

Poor donkey was a little small for his chosen garment. Some creativity was called for in order to secure it. A couple of plastic clothes pins...

And a well placed knot...

...left donkey to waddle around less encumbered by his makeshift rug. I don't think he much enjoyed the experience, but as Mother says, even in tragedy, there is often an element of comedy:

Druid Donkey is NOT happy.

He should just be glad Mother's camera died when it did. The blanket alone wasn't helping, so Mother got her super poofy saddle pad and put it on Donkey's back under the red blanket. Then she added her coat on top. Then another coat, tied partly around his neck. He looked like a pissed off homeless woman of Eastern European descent.*





*Not to disparage, stereotype, or otherwise degrade any human or their wardrobe choices.

Lurch

I was munching on some pre-diner hay the other day, minding my own business. All by myself, in fact, on the feeding mat in the barnyard while the rest of the herd loitered in the Small and stared at me. Mother stood off to one side, admiring me I suppose. My peace is broken by the appearance of a staggering donkey and Mother's concerned inquiry, "Donkey?! Are you OK???"

I look over to see my fat donkey lurching past Mother then twitching and staggering backwards and sideways... Whaaaat the heck....???

Donkey continued in his bizarre fashion towards me and the mat, until one staggering step away he swung round, pinned his ears, and snatched a chunk of my hay. He trotted away quickly.

Mother burst out laughing. I figured I shouldn't let him get away with such insubordination, but I was feeling lazy and I still had plenty of hay.

Besides, that was quite the interesting show.

Mother secretly hopes to recreate the circumstance and catch it all on film.

The Christmas Holy-day

I must admit, all the talk of Santa had made me excited. Mother cautioned me that I might not get much this year. Not because I didn't deserve it, but it just might not be what I would chose for myself.

Like the series of Adequan shots. I agree, that wasn't on my list of gift ideas. Today is the last one for the loading dose, so I guess it is a gift that she won't be stabbing me as frequently.

Mother said I may have ONE super tasty muffiny cookie, and lots of my Herballs and Withers & Withers Insulin Resistant cookies. The muffin cookies have sugar, and while my IR status is questionable, the simple fact is that sugar is hard on already unhappy joints.

Mother, it's CHRISTMAS!! Come on!! The day when we are reminded to be generous to our loved ones and those in need and, well... everybody. It's the Love Holy-day. It helps us stock up for the year and remind us all how we should be. Can be. Will be!

Now bring me my muffiny cookies! Bring me my muffiny cookies, please bring me my muffiny cookies, and bring some right here!!!

Please?

Donkey says this is his very special holiday. Something about ancient forms of transportation and a desert and blah blah blah. I'm just glad he's getting into the holiday spirit.

Merry Christmas to all!!! May your families be filled with blessings and your hearts with love this and every day of the year.

A Series of Ordinary Events

It has been a very busy few days for me. Mother provided our foodstuffs at all the feeding times this weekend, as the aunts and mystery uncle were nowhere to be seen. She gave me some paste on Sunday afternoon (a little blech-y but not awful) and then a perfect dinner.

It has been warm the last few days, and my winter coat has been a bit of a disadvantage. Sigh.

Yesterday the veterinarian came and gave me some shots in the neck, but none of them sent me to my Happy Place. I don't mind them too much, though, because he is a nice guy and sometimes he does send me to my Happy Place, so it is best to stay on his good side.

It was warm and rainy, and then a huge deluge of a storm hit in the evening.

Today the hoof man was here to work on my hoovies. It was rather a humorous affair, as the donkey came in to watch and kept hovering directly over my right foot while the hoof man tried to work. Mother caught fat donkey and tied him up, since he will bang incessantly if you put him in a stall, even with food.

So I'm standing there watching the fat donkey attempt to pace while tied and then I hear hoof beats approaching from the rear. Callie and Bert appeared in the doorway of the barn, wanting entry to their favorite stall to hang out in. Mother stood back there and continually hazed them away, as shutting the barn door would have diminished the light the hoof man needed.

Other than the dancing donkey and the dancing Mother, it was an uneventful trim. Mother put me in a stall and gave me a bit of hay while she prepared my dinner. Tonight's dinner was super good, and as warm as I can eat without making the inside of my mouth hurt. I really like when my dinner is all warm and yummy.

I realized there is something I really, really want:

A heated feed pan

I like my dinner warm and on the sloppier side than the others like their feed soaked~ the closer to gruel the better. The problem during these cooler months is that the food, while perfect temperature when first presented to me, rapidly cools into a less appetizing cold slop during the time it takes me to slurp it all down. If Mother could find a good way to keep it at that perfect temperature all during my dining experience, that would be great.

Mother says she is unable to find any commercially available heated feed pans of a type suitable for horses. I think she might not be looking hard enough. Or she needs to get a manufacturer to make one. Or she needs to design something for me here at home. Perhaps a well insulated feed pan, preheated especially for me?

I don't want to be any trouble, though...

A Point of Clarification

I am taking a stand, and Boyfriend can take a backseat for once.

My name is NOT "Fat Donkey". 

My name is Coyote. 

 

I am always sweet, always loving. I even forsake my own well-being to provide cleanliness for the aged mare, cleaning up her spilled grain mash which would surely molder and grow fetid if I did not provide this service.

I have a soul, you know. I have feelings.

 Why must I continue to be mocked?

It's ok that you don't understand the sacrifices I make; you're only human. But I don't think a little respect is too much to ask.

Rest and Relaxation

Well, hi!

Today was a great day. Sure it was overcast, and we might not have gotten to go out on the good grass pasture due to the storms last night and all the rain, but it was still a good day. 

For one, Mother doesn't lunge me if the ground could be slippery. Two, it was rather cooler today, so no bathing performed. And she gave me a really good brushing. But wait, there's more!

Nothing like a nice shave, courtesy Mother, to revitalize the spirit. I like the clippers, it gives me more "Mother Time". And she kisses me on my nose a lot. (She does that when she gives me a bath, too, but she finds mushy wet nose kisses more amusing than I do by that point.)

Oh, and look at the mane side, as I continue to recover from the anti-burr haircut... although I got the eerie feeling Mother was considering burr prophylaxis as she carved my halterpath out today.

Then Mother gave me a nice massage, really concentrating on my shoulders, neck and back... all those places I work really hard in my day to day job. I got a nice dinner...

Then back to work, with Belle and my fat donkey in the small.

Fat donkey, tightrope walking does not make you look thinner. The contrary, in fact.

Oh wait, Mother, did you say you have cookies?

Like I said, it was a great day!!

Saving My Fat Donkey

My fat donkey is, in my view, a strange creature. When first I met him, I admit I didn't know what to make of him. Devlin found him intriguing... I found him terrifying. I mean, something had obviously gone horribly wrong with this foal. But it turns out he was in fact a different species, and they are more or less expected to look like that.

I say less, because as you may have guessed from his name, my fat donkey is... not quite normal proportions. 

Donkey does run around quite a bit. He is never contained (mainly because he really, really doesn't care for it, and starts banging things... I must try this technique myself sometime). His excess plumnicity can best be attributed to the old horses. He cleans up the mush that Jeanie drops onto the feed mat as she eats and is beneath her to consume. Since she gets fed three times a day, the humans figure he is getting quite a lot of calories.

Mother had tried to get him more exercise by teaching him to drive. Donkey lacks motivation. She suggested a grazing muzzle to his owners. They were reluctant. Mother let donkey's weight problems slide away from her mind. Mother would weight tape him at his heartgirth and then around his brood gelding belly. His brood belly has him weighing 600lbs... obviously not accurate, but not at all reassuring.

Yesterday, while Mother and the Aunts were seeding the pastures, she happened to hunker down to donkey level and looked at his topline. Unlike horses, donkeys ordinarily have level toplines... my fat donkey, who had always been level in his pre-porcine prime, was developing a dip. A smidge of a sway. Mother was alarmed. Donkey isn't very old... only a year or two older than I am.

The seriousness of donkey's weight was brought to the forefront. Donkeys often live to ridiculous ages, but it seems unlikely Donkey would have half of that at the rate he was going. A grazing muzzle will be procured for him. Mother took him for a walk along a portion of my postal route, which the wee donk accepted with zeal and enthusiasm (I think he just remembered where the sheep pastures were, as he had been turned out on them many years ago.) He was enthusiastic on the route home as well, and was not really even huffing by the top of the hill. How can that be?

Mother also has a stealth driving plan. Since the donk is eager and happy to march homeward, she will put the driving lines on him for the walk back, and get more done with his driving training that way, as he will have forward momentum. This could all prove very interesting.

Mother said she was so proud of donkey's attitude on his walk, she even called him by his real name as he got some mid-walk scritchings.

"Good job, Coyote. Good boy."