Rubí donkey writes:
So here we are then, the trials of Lent are over. It is Holy Week, Semana Santa in Spain.
I gave up kicking Morris for Lent, so it is nice to be able to kick him again. He does appreciate it. I could see that glint in his eye: “Ah good, mummy is kicking me again: everything is back to normal on our field and she loves me.”
El Provedor is going away for nine days, to England. It is the first time he has been back to that country since 2010, when he came here to take up a teaching post and rented a house in the country, looking for two donkeys. He bought me first. He saw me in a dealer’s stable in Parcent and he liked me. The first thing he ever said to me was, “You’re lovely.”
Then his friend Barbara came from France to advise on buying a proper walking donkey. She saw Matilde in the same stable and recommended her as a good walking donkey. It is now five years since Matilde and I first came to this field. We never did any “proper walking” because we were both pregnant and we gave birth to foals – so now we are a herd – and we keep El Provedor fully engaged here.
So there we are: five years here in this place. While El Provedor is away in England, Barbara will come and look after us. She has not yet seen our foals, Morris and Aitana. In fact the last time Barbara saw us, in December 2010, we were still in the dealer’s stable in Parcent.
It was Barbara who inspired El Provedor to keep donkeys, so it is quite fitting that she should drive down from France to look after us while he goes back to England for the first time since coming here. What will she make of our rood and norty foals Morris and Aitana that she has never seen? They are now four and a half years old. Older than Matilde and I were when we came here.
Five years in this field, and the foals have never known anything except this. Morris and Aitana were born under the lemon tree on consecutive days, and they took their first steps around this dusty field. We watch the house every morning for signs of El Provedor awakening. He rises early on weekdays, late on Saturdays and Sundays, and we bray to bring him to us. We always start the day with carrots. Nothing interrupts our routine, and we shall wake Barbara with braying if we don’t get carrots before 8 o’clock.
On Palm Sunday afternoon El Provedor sat with us in the field and he seemed a little sad. Life has not been very kind recently. It seems that everything has been conspiring against his simple vision of living a quiet life in the country. A life with us four donkeys. Some people don’t like that. If you try to live your dream – no matter how simple – there is never a shortage of people who want to interrupt it, criticize it or blatantly trample upon it.
We saw him sitting there. Morris was the first: he went slowly up and started licking El Provedor’s face. Then he bit his shoulder, very gently. Aitana joined them. She lifted her front right leg and put her hoof on his knee. He held her foreleg and kissed her nose. Matilde was next. In an unusual display of affection – as she is always very aloof – she put her head in his lap, then rested her chin on his head.
I decided it was time to demonstrate my affection too, so I went over and sniffed El Provedor’s trousers, bit his socks, then I turned round and backed my bottom into his face. That was the end of El Provedor’s appreciation of donkey cuddles. He got up quickly and went indoors. Oh dear… I must learn to be more subtle with my signs of affection.
I have no reason to doubt he will be missing us even as his plane flies over our field on its way from Alicante to Liverpool. Meanwhile, we have been assured carrots will arrive as usual.
I wish all our readers a prayerful Holy Week and a joyful Easter.
The usual postscript, to the usual stalker:
Definition of a stalker: the person who comes to this blog just to spy on the blog owner. So, if you are the Jehovah’s Witless who just comes here to stalk the blog owner and find ways to make him a target for your strange sect, this blog is not written for you. Please get up from sitting in front of your television and your computer all day and get your own life instead of spying on mine. Regular readers have followed this blog and the earlier Brotherlapin blog for six years: they are from all over the world. This blog is not written for the stalker next door.
Apologies to regular readers for the stern tone of this postscript: but as you may imagine, it is very necessary. This is one of the hazards of blogging: it may be great to be in touch with a world wide audience, but it can leave you open to stalkers. If anyone has experience of this and can advise a remedy, I would be pleased to hear from you. 🙂