Rubí writs her Shrove Tuesday blogue and warns you to keep alert durin the forty days in the wildness, becuse many are the wolves in sweep’s clothin wot is out there, lurkin behind the chimneys, prowlin and pacin about, seekin whom they may devour.
So I has put on my Lent hat, since the Peasant hasn’t yet quite explained in a satisfactory way what is the basic difference between feasts and fasts, because we just get straw every day whether it’s Christmas or Lent. So we donkeys don’t much distinguish between wearin our Santa hats in December or February. Now you might say, I just want to ruin the Peasant’s serious bloggin by bein a ridiculous Rubí, but I don’t care, and he’s gone shoppin now, so it will be too late when he gets back and sees I ruined his blogue.
The Peasant says he’s not goin to Santa Ana church in Sella on Ash Wednesday to get the ash put on his forehead in the form of a cross. He says he can just as easily stay at home and get cross.
“Morris, I finished my Shrove Tuesday blogue,” I said. “Can you check it? I don’t know how to read: I just does the writtin.”
He came over from eatin an orange wot the Peasant had given him, now the Peasant is back from his shoppin. I don’t know why Morris gets extra oranges. The vet said we are only allowed two oranges a day. Why does Morris get an extra orange just becuse he brays more than me?
“It’s a bit short,” he said, after he read my blogue.
“Yeah, well it’s nearly Lent,” I said. “That means it’s time to give up on everythin. So I gave up on it.”
“Give things up,” said Morris, “not give up on things. And what does this bit mean: ‘wolves in sweep’s clothing’?”
“It’s an expression the Peasant was usin last week. I don’t know. Prolly comes from a musical, like Mary Poppins or somethin. Chim chimeney, chim chimeney, wolves dressed as sweeps…”
“No,” replied Morris. “You don’t get wolves on the roof. It’s more likely a reference to glove puppets. Wolves is crafty beggars and they might come along and distract you with glove puppets. Sooty and Sweep. That sort of thing. A wolf in Sweep’s clothing.”
“Can you find me some suitable pictures for my blogue, please Morris?”
I went over to see the Peasant and gave him my hopeless Eeyore look. He went and brought me an orange.
“So, you’re not doin any more blogues till the end of Lent then?” I asked him. I licked the fence rails to prolong the taste of the orange on my tongue. It’s amazin how fences always taste of oranges but only after you eat an orange.
“Nope,” said the Peasant. “I’m going to be keeping a Lent discipline of prayer, study and work. My Lent reading is going to be Pope Francis: Fratelli Tutti.“
“Is there a wolf in it?” I asked. “Morris is finding the pictures for my Shrove Rubí blogue and I’m ready to upload it now. We’ve got a sweep, and Sooty and Sweep, but Morris can’t find a picture of a wolf in sweep’s clothin, so maybe Saint Francis and a wolf would be a good way to finish?”
“Yes,” said the Peasant. “You know best, Rubí donkey. But not Saint Francis with Sooty and Sweep, OK? Keep it sensible.”
So, that’s it until the end of Lent becuse we is all givin up on things for Lent. It’s a very Eeyore sort of gloomy time really, so I’m lookin forward to it. At least we can now all take the bloody Santa hats off…
A Study Guide for the Encyclical Letter of the Holy Father Pope Francis On Fraternity and Social Friendship
(Click here for a printable PDF)
2 thoughts on “Beware the wolves in sweep’s clothing”
If giving up on everything and looking gloomy and Eeyoreish results in being rewarded with orange feasting, then that sounds like a sensible donkey plan to me! I wonder if they will ever find St Francis’ long lost chapter in The Little Flowers about the donkey and the orange tree…
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No, Lent’s not about lookin gloomy, it’s about bein gloomy. If you is lookin gloomy you is just bein a Pharisee and gettin people to see how gloomy and holy you is. The trick is to look not-gloomy while acherly bein very gloomy. A bit like when you lick the fence and it doesn’t taste of oranges, but you pretend it does and smile ungloomily while acherly feelin very gloomy and therefore bein most holy.