Bloggus Interruptus, Donkey-Style

It’s not at all what you are thinking.  And shame on you for what you were thinking.  Wait, what were you thinking?

I recently started to record (on my pocket-sized digital recorder) what was going to be my blog piece about a green St. Paddy’s Day weekend, when I was pleasantly interrupted by a donkey that wanted to talk to me.

So here’s the back-story:  I live so far from the center of town that I take different ways of going back and forth just to prevent myself from getting bored.  One way that I go is through the woods on a curvy, unpaved road, past a house that’s got a big neighboring property with a barn, barnyard, and two donkeys.  As I was driving home slowly one day on this stretch of road, and was going by the donkeys, I heard a series of gunshots in the woods.  I stopped the car, alarmed, and opened the window to listen for more gunshots.  (Not the swiftest thing to do after just having heard gunshots, I realize.)  As I was opening my car window, I noticed the donkeys, far back near their barn, as they usually were, looking over at me.  I did what just about anyone would do; I started talking to them.  “Did you hear those gunshots?  Guys?  That was pretty scary.  Guys?  Hey, you guys look kind of fuzzy.”

After a little bit of this one-way banter, one of the donkeys started to amble over to the edge of the property.  In all the times I’d driven by, neither of the donkeys ever did anything like that.  Of course, I’d never stopped to talk to them before, either.  I should mention here that I love animals and will never pass up an opportunity to talk to one, especially if it’s fuzzy.

I parked my car and went over to pet Roy, and in a little while, Newly came over to say hi.  Then the donkeys’ owners, an elderly couple, came out to greet me.  (That’s how I learned the donkeys’ names.)  Turns out Roy and Newly are Sicilian Donkeys, whose characteristic black crucifix markings on their backs and shoulders make them very distinctive.  Yet they are still fuzzy.

And so my theory is that when I was driving slowly back down along the same way a few days later, with my car windows open, starting to record the beginning of another blog post, Roy smelled me in the distance, and came down to the base of his driveway to say hi to me.  He’s never done anything like that before, and no matter what anyone says, I’m going to flatter myself and believe that the donkey came to see me.  After all, I’m always telling everyone what a pure delight I am to be around.  And anyone who can’t see the truth in that must be a jackass.

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