The Employment of a Donkey

Last year, I was given the wonderful opportunity to adopt a donkey by the name of Oliver. Not knowing much about donkeys, but an acceptable amount about horses, I figured that my knowledge would be transferrable to our new friend. I was wrong.

Originally intended to serve as both a protection and companion animal to our pony, I had no real dream for Oliver. We’d handle him more, but I really didn’t see the point of riding him, so he was halter-broken and life went on. Until the fateful evening that I decided to bring him into the barn. In his defense, we were still renovating and it wasn’t the most welcoming atmosphere (but safe enough for any member of the Equidae family). Well, he wasn’t having it. There was nothing I could do to convince him otherwise, because as it turns out, the things you do to get a horse to move don’t work with a donkey. Including waiting him out—for two hours, pregnant, standing in the rain. Googling didn’t help much either—the only advice I gleaned from the Internet was that I had to make friends with Oliver. I thought we were friends, I remember thinking to myself hurtfully. So now it’s six months later and I can get him inside with the help of a carrot, one pony and good humour (it still takes about half an hour). As it turns out, donkeys aren’t so much stubborn as they are smart. They make decisions, and it’s incredibly touching when they decide to include you. So, I’ve decided that since he’s let me bring him in the barn, I should learn how to drive and teach him (a cart, folks, not a car—I’ve got that one figured out-ish.). Wish me luck.