Hip Hip Hooray for Aimee

She did it. She stood in Ayr on Saturday 27th December and raised £515 to save another donkey!

A little boy donkey will have a future thanks to the spotty stumpy I live with. Mum says it was the coldest say in the year and that mum was an ice statue - Aimee was ok, as she had my stable rug (the nice new one that didn't fit me...) and her big 350 grm outdoor rug on so 700 grm of duvet on a donkey. Nice.

Mum says she would have had a cup of tea and poured it over her feet as she was so cold.

I am so so excited, another safe donkey. OK I didn't have a hoof in it but if it wasn't for my excellent example of a perfect donkey, there just wouldn't be so much interest in helping donkeys - so maybe I can be marketing consultant on this one.

Aimee was very tired when she came home, full of polo mints and apples and carrots plus a sticky bun.....maybe I need to go out fundraising as I would get all these things too....

I Was Not Meant to See Christmas Day

If my luck hadn't changed in March 2008, I would be long gone and probably eaten by now.

I can only say Thank You to everyone who helped me. For the other donkeys due to die shortly, there are my festive thoughts.

A little black donkey, so many years ago
Asleep in his stable, away from wind and snow
Suddenly awakening, an angel at his door,
Staggers to his feet, trembling, full of awe

A celestial choir is singing,
A star is shining bright,
A caravan of hope, travelling through the night,
To celebrate a birth, on this cold and frosty night

A little black donkey, hungry, cold and tired
Once full of love, once full of dreams, but hope has all expired
Hurtling in this bitter night, a caravan to hell
No Christmas sleigh with Santa Claus, no jingling reindeer bells

A sleigh of pain and broken lives
Gallops fast on tracks of fear
The little donkey shivers
And quietly sheds a tear

Farewell Little Black Donkey

As mum writes this for me, you are on your way to your death. Mum has cried for you - no one saved you, and you are on the lorry, trundling down through France to Italy where you will die.

You were only worth Euros 300, not a lot for a little life. You didn't have a name, you didn't even merit having your photograph taken, just an anonymous little black donkey, 10 years old, who no one loved. What happened in all those ten years for you to end up like this?

Are you cold just now? Hungry? Thirsty? You must be frightened. Have you been trampled by the bigger horses on the lorry with you, as you struggle to keep your balance, as the miles go by. Are you cold and tired. You can't lie down, there's no room. Did they stop as they are supposed to and give you a rest? Who knows. Did any of the people you passed on the way give you a thought, shed a tear or just shrug and not care?

When you get there, what happens? Will anyone give you a last drink of water, or a little bit of hay before they kill you?

Or have they been celebrating Christmas early? Have they had a glass of wine at lunchtime, gettng ready for the weekend. Will they laugh at you and your friends as you go to die? Taunt you, beat you. Use the electric prod on you.

I hope they stun you correctly. That is the one thing I really pray for. That you don't know what happens next. Or do you feel the cut of the sharp knife as they cut your throat? Or feel the pain of being shackled and hauled into the air to bleed to death? Do they jeer as your blood gushes and drips as you struggle in your pain?

I wish you could have had a name, a life, a future. I wish someone could have comforted you at the end. I wish the others who will follow you next week could be spared.

But this is the real world. They will follow you. And more and more. Until maybe some day someone says enough.

My Early Christmas Present

My xmas present has arrived, a new stable rug so the Vodka donkey can be warm and cozy as baby it's cold outside. We have had snow, frosty stuffy, slippy stuff so I can do the scene from Bambi with the legs going everywhere, believe me I have the giraffe legs for it.

But the bad news - it doesn't FIT. I am crushed.

It is a very snazzy blue with a red trim but my bottom is hanging out of it and it is so shallow that it doesn't even cover all my tummy - mum says it may be something to do with the fact that there is more tummy now than there used to be.....

But it is a 5ft Fal rug - I already have a 5ft fal outdoor rug which fits me like a glove, I adore it as all that sticks out are my ears and I can tuck them into the neck piece if it is really cold, and a discrete knee peeps out from below the rug. It is so warm and generous and I love it. This one, same make, same size, is tight on the front, about 3 inches too short, and my lovely white tummy is uncovered. How can this be - that there is such a huge variation.

Mum is furious as it doesn't even fit Aimee which was an alternative..... so I am not a happy donkey. I had been promised a lovely rug for xmas and I am so so disappointed.

I am In Chat Magazine

Mum says I am famous again - for five minutes. I am on Page 27 of the December issue of Chat Magazine - and it is a pretty fine picture of a fine funky donkey. Well they would have to show a picture of me as I am so gamin, so sophisticated, being a fine french filly. We won't say anything about mum's picture as she hates having photos taken....

It would be nice if all the people who read about me would send money to help save another donkey - there was a huge Poitou donkey at the fat farm - even taller than me this one is - and mum was muttering about wouldn't it be nice to have two giraffe donkeys roaming around....Dad put his foot down (not sure where exactly) and she has not mentioned it since. Not sure I want the competition, there is only room for one Giraffe Donkey here.

Seriously though, with Christmas approaching it really is the season to save a little donkey. Don't send cards, send money to ME and I will organise a little donkey to have a very happy New Year.

We Have This White Stuff

And it is very cold around my ankles.

I was really annoyed, all this white stuff floating down from the sky and making my feet cold, plus to be fair I would have been happy staying indoors and eating my hay rather than going into a cold miserable field.

To make matters worse, Fat Cob Rosie being a lamintic isn't allowed out if it is frosty, so she gets left on our new walkways with some hay until it all de-frosts. Well I wasn't having any of that, I marched under the fence and stole Rosie's hay.

Mum came out to find Rosie with the sort of look on her face that says I can't believe this has happened - now she would normally KILL for food but she knows not to mess with a determined Vodka donkey. Then I enticed Ferguson to limbo under the fence with poor silly Aimee the other side of it, fretting and running up and down as she couldn't figure out how to trespass.

Mum had to give Rosie more hay and I am on last warnings about breaking fences - I have broken some of the fence sticks by scratching my bottom on them. Mum is muttering something about just wait till it's wired up....not sure what this means....are we going to have a stereo system and play Christmas Carols or something?

The Colour Purple

Mum thinks I have a thing about the colour purple.

When Ferguson is wearing his purple rug, I keep trying to undress him, taking it over his head, grabbing the tail flap and pulling, and if that doesn't work, then I grab it at the withers and try to pull it forward that way.

I have managed to get him totally tied up in it and have also managed to remove it completely.

However when Aimee was wearing her purple rug, I had a go at removing it, and got double barrelled for my troubles......Must remember to stick to Ferguson.

And Then She Didn't Come

Mum is very upset. For more than 15 months, she has been feeding a stray cat - early on when she moved here, she found the cat lying on the roadway, with its head stuck in a tin! It had been scavenging in the bin bags for dinner and had got its head totally wedged inside a tin of catfood - mum was terrified it would suffocate but she managed to prise its head out of the tin somehow even though it was a very tight fit. She thought it would have to go to the vet or call in the fire brigade but eventually she managed to release its head without hurting it.

It ran off doing a fair impersonation of Road Runner, zooming along the road about 50mph! It was a very skinny elderly feral, very very wild, white with black patches, little pinched face, obviously having a hard time getting by. Mum started putting feed out for it but it didn't come back.

Then about 3 months later, as it got colder, one night she saw the cat looking in the cat flap. So food was put out for it every night and it would come after dark and eat up its dinner. It came every single night, and had lots of good quality food to keep it warm - mum even tried to give it worming tablets crushed in the food but no it wouldn't eat that.

She rarely saw the cat, only about 3 or 4 times in the 15 -18 months it was being fed - last time she saw it it look very plump and much happier. She kept hoping that maybe it would find its way into our barn and make a home there, or even come in the catflap but it never did.

Sadly, four weeks ago, on a Friday, it stopped coming. Dmitri, who is an animal communicator, thought that he saw it injured and hiding in amongst wood and metal bits - the farm yard nearby is like that so mum went and searched and searched but no sign of the cat. She went several times, with torches, and crawled around on her hands and knees, trying to find her. But no good.

It is now more than four weeks since she came for her dinner. Mum puts food out every night just in case, but she is very very sad. She just wishes that the little cat had felt confident enough to come and ask for help and that she could have done more for her. She thinks she has gone and hidden and died with no one there to hold her paw.

I Am No Longer A Size Zero

When I arrived in the UK in March 2008, I was a skinny little thing, every bit of my skeleton could be seen and felt, you could play a good tune on my ribs and my spine was a good zylophone!

I was so cold and tired and hungry and mum brought over my tartan coat of many colours to the Scottish Borders Donkey Sanctuary, where I had to rest for a week as I was too weary and weak to travel any further.

This rug was so so big on me, drowned me, you could have got two of me inside it. Now that we are facing arctic conditions, it has been brought out for me, as it is the warmest rug I inherited from Mouse donkey - 350 grms of pure warmth - and it covers me from ears to tail (in fact I can tuck me ears in under the neck bit and keep them warm as well).

Poor Mouse only got to wear it for a month before she died, so it is lovely and warm - but now I fit it! The straps had to be let down more than SIX INCHES so that they would go round my very large warm tummy......mummy says my modelling days are over....I don't care, I like being a more voluptuous Vodka donkey. Mum warns me not to get any bigger or some of the NEW rugs only bought this year won't fit me any more......

This picture shows me when I arrived, you can see how big the rug looks on me - well now it is a perfect fit, just shows a delicate knee and a hint of a tail!

Aimee Hits The Town

Aimee donkey has been very busy out fund raising for various charities. She is due to do one in December for Equine Section but last weekend was out collecting for Belle.

You must remember Belle, she is the mature chestnut mare, gorgeous looking girl, who is living in France with a charity called the Epona Trust. She is doing really well, looks ten years younger, and is having a very happy retirement. She was too ill to come to the UK but we managed to find a lovely retirement home where she is safe.

You can tell by the before and after shots how much happier Belle is - and Aimee looks very fetching in pink....pink was MY colour and she has even borrowed my headcollar - is nothing sacred?

My Open Day

I had to remind mum that she had forgotten to tell everyone about my Open Day. She says it's because she is still recovering from it!

Anyway, after all the wet weather, we had a lovely sunny day. I was brought into the bottom paddock with the two Scottish Stumpies, and a large sack of chopped carrots and a feed scoop were left there. This got me wondering if there could be something interesting today instead of the usual boring you get up, have breakfast, go out into field, eat, sleep, come back in for dinner, eat, sleep, repeat the dose. Relaxing it may be but I am a young donkey and I am ready to rumble. There is not a lot of action on a smallholding in Dumfries and Galloway, apart from chasing Ziggle the cat.

I watched with interest as tables and chairs appeared on the lawn - lawn is a bit of an exageration, there is a stretch of grass and reeds which claims it is a lawn but really that is stretching credibility a bit. It was still a bit soft under foot after the rain so the chair legs sank into it nicely and sat at all sorts of angles.

Then cakes and things appeared on the table and before mum had even had time to put on some lippie, folks were driving in. She says that she was a bit harassed as we were due to be open from 1200 and people started arriving at 1130 and she hadn't even the hot water boiled and ready to make tea and was still setting things up. Oh well, these things happen. I was ready, I had been groomed and was looking as smart as I could be. And so the cars started arriving and people spilled out and milled around and of course I know why they were all there!

All to see ME of course. Me and the Scottish stumpies preened and posed and ate carrots all day while Dad told everyone my story and what an exceptionally wonderful talented and modest donkey I am. By the end of the afternoon we had all almost turned carrot coloured as we had eaten so many of them, and we had also begun to get snappy and fighty as I wanted them all to myself. It's My Open Day so why should I share. No one would bother coming to see the Scottish Stumpies as they are not Famous. Aimee disagrees, she says she has her picture in more papers than I have.....show me the photos I say.

Didn't see much of mum as she was on cakes and teas duty. She spent all day Saturday baking meringues, walnut cake, cherry cake, fruit cake, Victoria sponge with cream and jam, cup cakes, you name it she had made it - but I didn't get any - she says that dairy products are not good for donkeys but I am sure I know better.

Anyway, about 70 people came to see me and they left me lots of presents - it all added up to £320.00! This was then sent to Equine Section to help save another donkey like me - well not like me as there couldn't be another Vodka donkey.

Mum said never again, she was tired, I was tired too - so full of carrots I could hardly stagger to the stables to lie down.

Mum says that I behaved impeccably and showed everyone what a lovely brave and gentle donkey I am - Ferguson might not agree with this assessment as I kept shoving him out of the way so I could get more carrots. But I was very hospitable and friendly and welcoming - I am sure they all loved me.

Vodka Breaches ASBO

I've done it, I was caught in the act.....

She saw me......I grabbed his rug, and pulled it.

I sunk my teeth into his neck and wrestled with him.....

I MOUNTED HIM - mum says she couldn't watch his little legs buckle with my weight.....

I then asked him to play....and when he wouldn't I chased him with my ears back till he turned around and booted me.

Mum cheered.....

I have a feeling I am in huge trouble. Do they have special Docks in Court for donkeys? Do they do lunch for donkeys, afternoon tea. Oh why didn't I read my Performance Indicators properly.

Vodka's Ten Commandments

I have been reprieved, mum has cancelled the bad lorry on a temporary basis only. I have been given an asbo and must sign up to the following Performance Indicators.....

1. I must not molest Ferguson in any way.

1a) Statutory rape of Ferguson is not permitted.
1b) Grevious bodily harm is not permitted, this includes hanging onto his tail with my teeth and swinging, grabbing him by the neck and tugging and biting his legs.
1c) Chasing Ferguson up and down the field till his little legs are tired is also considered anti social behaviour unless he clearly indicates that he wishes to participate in an exercise session.

2. All equine equipment must be treated with due respect.

2a) I must not remove rugs which are hanging up to dry and drag them all over the mud in the yard and stand on them.

2b) 2a applies not only to my own rugs but those rugs belonging to other horses and donkeys on site.

2c) I must not remove rugs which are being worn by other horses and donkeys. This particularly refers to Ferguson's rugs. I must pay particular attention to weather conditions and not remove his rugs on a wet and windy day.

2d) If I violate item 2 (c), I must leave the rug in a clearly visible position in the field and not hide it in the longest grass and the wettest area.

2e) I will not laugh if in the process of recovering said rug mum falls over in the mud and long grass and comes in very wet and dirty and in a severe bad humour.

2f) I must not take headcollars that are hanging outside my stable, drag them through the bars of the stable and then chew on brand new lead ropes.

2g) I must not remove mangers from the wall by scratching my bottom on them. Dad has now hung the manger 6 times and while mum says that maybe the bolts are not strong enough, when I sit on the manger it tends to give way. If I remove the manger from the wall, I should not be grumpy if my breakfast is delayed while emergency repairs take place.

3. I must not chase stable cats, whether in the stable or on the yard or on the new Vodka tracks. This particularly applies to burmese blue Ziggle who is still recovering from post traumatic shock having been chased and donkey handled by myself. In my defence, if he was stupid enough to sit right in the middle of the track and refuse to move, what did he expect?

Item 3 will equally apply to any other felines stupid enough to venture within reach of myself. The most likely cats at risk are Sam the Man, Fudge a.k.a Horatio due to his likeness to
David Carusa, and Saffy (though Saffy may well be able to stand up for herself, being a notorious donkey eating cat).

4. On the extremely rare occasions that carrot or apple peelings are added to my breakfast or dinner, I will not roar and make rude noises and attempt to monopolise three feeding stations. I will permit Aimee and Ferguson to eat their breakfasts and dinners without the added stress of a Vodka donkey attempting to share their manger. I must note that there is not room for two donkey muzzles to be in the manger simultaneously.

5. When in season I will try to conduct myself with decorum. The entire world does not need to know that I am up for it. It is extremely unladylike for me to stand and wee and show my donkey parts to anyone who is unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity. I will not flaunt myself at Ferguson and scare the pants off him if he were wearing any.

6. I will under no circumstances attempt to donkey handle a feed bucket while held by mum and will wait at a discreet distance while the breakfasts and dinners of all three donkeys are being equitably distributed between the three mangers. I will not complain that my manger has less than anyone else's.

7. I will not let me myself out of the stable at night (I wish to appeal on this one as it was Aimee that had the idea and opened the door) and will not under any circumstances enter the feed store and eat the chicken food.

8. If I have violated item (7) above I promise not to crow.

9. I will not throw buckets across the stable, whether or not they are empty.

10. I will permit my forehead to be combed on demand and without warning.

I have been told that other items may be added to this list of Must Dos.

I must lie down and worry about how I will manage to adhere to all this. If I don't the consequences could be dire.

I Am Being Sent Back

Mum has said that she has ordered the bad lorry to come back and get me and take me to Italy.

She says it is fully justified due to my very very bad behaviour. That I am a thoroughly naughty donkey - I always knew this would happen, that it was not to be forever.

She says she will make the phone call tonight and I will be gone by Monday.

I am heartbroken. What can I do?

Vodka Falls at First Hurdle....Not a Showjumper

As you may know from previous posts, my catwalk is being made as we speak.....I am not sure of the colour - dirty grey - and tonight I had the first chance to try it out.....it's not quite finished but mum says tomorrow we will be fully encircled.

However the only way onto it was to jump over a log. Now with my giraffe legs, I just couldn't figure it out - how to lift each one up in turn, or take a big leap at it. Mum says I made a total three course dinner of it, as it was only 9 inches hight.....and with my long legs really what an excuse.

The two diddy donkeys had already climbed over it, scampered along the yellow brick road, straight into the stable, and I was left alone, running up and down, shouting and screaming for someone to come and help me. A donkey home alone, not good. Panic.

Mum came back with a headcollar and I submitted to being caught, she then tried to lead me over the logs but no, not a chance. I wasn't going to risk it. I know all about broken legs in donkeys - it's a one way trip (literally) to the larder! In the end she had to woman-handle the log - all 10ft long of it, big fir tree - out of the way to make a gap so a dainty donkey ankle could squeeze through.

Finally I got into the stable only to find the two diddy donkeys had eaten my dinner as well.

Adding insult to injury I think. I am plotting my revenge.

Vodka Badly Injures Mum - And Just Escapes Death

They have started installing the Vodka Catwalk - I expect a red carpet at the very least. Mum says I may have to make do with grey instead.

The gateways to our fields are muddy and I am expected to get the Vodka ankles dirty as I delicately trip in and out on a daily basis. This is just not on - especially as poor little Ferguson who does not have giraffe donkey long legs almost flounders in the mud - I am sure one of these days we are going to have to dig him out.

Mum also lost her wellies in it last week and there was a lot of cursing about the fact that she had to take her foot out of the wellie, walk out through the mud barefoot, having managed to eventually pull the offending wellie out of the mud without going as she says a over t. Not sure what that means but maybe someone out there can translate. Something to do with bottoms and bristols she tells me.

The cat walk project has meant that we have had to move to the bottom field. The main gate to this is used by Rosie the cob and it is very very muddy, even worse than our field gate. So we have had to use the bottom gate, which isn't really for foor legged people like us - it is a people gate and you have to go over a bridge and through this little gate. To get there you have to come down the hill via the garden.

So far so good you might think but no not quite.

On Friday, mum told dad to go down and shut the gate at the entrance to the house, so that if for any reason any of us clever donkeys managed to get loose while walking in the garden. Reasonable precaution given what happened next. She then got all our headcollars on and started leading us out of the barn and down the yard, the gate of which was open.

To her horror, she saw that daft daddy had let a lorry carrying stones for the tracks through the bottom gate and it was coming up the hill towards us. He also hadn't shut the bottom gate. Mum was screaming at the driver to stop, but being a lorry driver he paid not the slightest bit of attention and kept coming straight at us. As he came past us, all three of us panicked and tried to run away.

Poor mum held on as long as she could but eventually the inevitable happened and she got pulled over and dragged down the roadway, still holding onto our ropes. Of course three donkeys are stronger than one person being towed down a hill on her bottom so she had to let go.

I'm afraid to admit that I stood on her and kicked her on the head and also knocked off her specs so she couldn't see anything......she says she knows it was me as she spotted my hairy ankles.

The three of us then set of at a gallop down the hill towards the open gate. Mum, still winded, blinded and looking for her specs, is screaming something they call abuse at dad to get the b gate closed - which he just manages to do before we run out of it and along the lane, which leads to the main road......

He manages to shoo us into the field and then he and mum have what I think is called a discussion, while continuing to search for her specs. I understand it was full and frank.

The specs are eventually found, slightly bent......mum says she needed a new pair anyway and having them at an angle does nothing for her view of the world.

I feel very sorry and contrite as mum has a hoof shaped bruise on boob 1, a large bruise on her midrift which she says is colouring up nicely and is very swollen. She also has multiple bruises on her arms and legs where I trotted on her - I expect I did a nice piaffe just to make sure!

She has forgiven me and says the blame lies elsewhere. Maybe she is saying this just to be kind....

Vodka Donkey Open Day - 21st September

Mum is busy baking cakes and things for this, so please everyone in the area come to Dumfries and Galloway to see me.

I will be 'at home' on Sunday 21st September and will be available for one to one chats from 1200 noon to 4 pm - I will be getting all dolled up for the day so please make sure you come to see me as we will all be so disappointed if you can't make it.

I live just off the A713 Ayr to Castle Douglas road and it is very easy to find - you can see my house from the main road. If you need any directions, send me an email or post a comment here - my email is care of mum and she says she can be contacted on louise.whyte@btinternet.com.

Aimee and Ferguson will also be putting in an appearance - just to keep them happy but we all know who the real star is......

Vodka Cyclops

I am badly hurt. I have managed to scratch my beautiful long lashed Vodka eye and it is now weeping and very sore.

Mum said that it needed looking at, as the last thing we want is a Vodka who cannot see, so this new vet, well one I haven't seen before, came to inspect me.

I was in the tiny tiny paddock behind the barn and mum called me so I came through the gate on my own and stood in the yard, while the vet admired the Vodka from all angles. I went up to him and gave him a good sniff but no he didn't have polo mints - surely every vet should come armed with them? Isn't it polite to bring a small gift when visiting a patient. I found this very disappointing.

Then mum said we'd better go into my stable so I could be looked at properly, so she called me again and I trotted behind her into my stable.

At this point the vet was astonished. He said that he had been expecting a semi wild terrified donkey - given my sad background - and couldn't believe what he had seen. Mum then put my headcollar on and my eye was looked at and things shone in it - I have managed to scratch my cornea so I need lots of cream in my eye to make it well.

I think I was so so brave to do all this. Mum says she is totally proud of me for being such a good girl.

I think the vet will be less afraid of me next time - I think he was anticipating being there for hours, trying to get near me - he just didn't expect a self confident little Vodka. But he'd better remember my polo mints or there will be tears.

Mum Visits My Hero, Cazaux

I am very upset, mum went to see my best boyfriend and didn't suggest taking me along!

All I get are these mingy photos of him in all his glory - well less glory than he used to be but we won't go into his transformation into a contented gelding......She also ran out of memory on her camera so couldn't even take most of the pictures she planned - how's that for organisation?

It has been six months since I said goodbye to my gallant french friend, who helped me through the horrible times on the fat farm in France - at the very least I should have a mobile so I can call him up and have a hee haw about life and times but no, all contact stopped. I want visitation rights.

It's nice to see how well he is, much fatter than when we said our farewells, though I think I have a funkier haircut. Mum said he is still as in your face as ever and totally charismatic - so nothing's changed other than the loss of his mangy old coat and the gaining of several kilos.

Mum left him his Pension Fund, which I am sure he wants to be invested in carrots and other edibles though Helen may have other ideas on what it can be spent on. Mum said they had lots of hay in store - more than we have .......I must have words as I don't like this idea of a lack of winter rations.

Cazaux really is King of the Castle there - he even has his own promotional keyring (didn't have the heart to tell him that other donkeys have been similarly honoured as I am sure he thinks it's only the gallant Cazaux that features in any promo goods).

My little heart skipped a beat to see him - my dinky Scottish friend Ferguson does his best but he has the charisma of a....very diminutive Scottish donkey. He just lacks the je ne sais quoi of the gallic gallant.

I am deeply jealous of Charlotte and Coquette, the two French fillies, who are in braying distance of my brave boy. Eat your heart out Vodka, they can see, hear but not touch. Maybe that's worse, being so close to Mr Irresistible but so far.

Bonjour Cazaux, bravo. I am sending you tant de baisers.

Your sweetheart, Vodka.

Cazaux Has A Pension Fund

My old friend Cazaux, happily living at Donkey Heaven aka Scottish Borders Donkey Sanctuary, is now a very lucky donkey, not only does he have a new home for life but he has a PENSION.

Aimee donkey is, I hate to admit it, clever. She does these things called Street Collections, where she goes to a town centre and hangs around and eats polo mints, apples, carrots (oh and not forgetting she gets her feed bucket and haynet as well). For some reason, people give her money - this is the bit I can't figure out. I mean I haven't worked out what useful function she performs yet so why give her money? Oh well, no accounting for it.

Anyway, she was in Ayr, a local seaside town, on Saturday and she posed and preened and generally did her stuff from 1030 in the morning to 430 in the afternoon - rather her than me, I was in the field all day chilling out. People brought her gifts - like organic carrots from Marks and Spencers - and she stood there like a little spotted princess and ate and slept. Mum says we won't mention about her lifting her tail and mum having to get the rubber gloves and plastic bags out.

Mum says that this is all well and good, people get worried that the little donke may be tired, but little donkey had breakfast before she left, then her bucket at lunchtime, plus a running buffet all day and has four legs to stand on - mum had a cup of tea before she left, having mucked out all the stables, hung up haynets etc for the return of the conquering heroine - and no one thought of feeding her a sandwich or a nice hot cup of tea. She also would like it to be noted that her feet and back were giving her gipp but no one asked how she was.

I suppose I can see her point. Anyway Aimee, bless her little cotton socks, raised £588 and this has been given to Cazaux as his pension - Donkey Heaven says that will pay his expenses for a year, so they are very pleased. I hadn't realised that donkeys cost so much every year - does this mean that mum has to spend all this money on me as well?

Maybe better not ask that question I suspect.

Vodka Donkey Goes for Full Brazilian

Really she has done it this time - I have been SHAVED. I feel so exposed, so embarassed, even my little girly bits are on view now, particularly as my tail hasn't grown back yet.

I know I was very very matted. I know that it hurt as the mats were right down to my skin. I know that the comb and the scissors didn't take the mats out. I know it had to be done.

But I am NAKED. I feel I should be in the Olympics playing beach volleyball or something. She who claims she is my stylist got this funny thing that makes a lot of noise and whoosh, all my hair was gone. It carpetted the stables - maybe this is a new type of bedding for the winter. And there I was exposed for all to see.

Mum says well it does show that I am no longer a skinny donkey as there is a large tummy peaking out. But I look ridiculous.

Please someone out there send me a modesty blanket.

Five More Donkeys Need To Be Saved

Mum is very upset - she says if I look at the http://www.equinesection.com/ website it will break my little Vodka heart as there are five donkeys there, going to the great salami factory and some of them are super urgent and may be dead donkeys before long.

I had almost forgotten about this, I have been concentrating on myself, eating lots of summer grass, getting fatter, winding up Ferguson by flirting with him (he needs a step ladder to reach Vodka bits so I am the ultimate tease...) and making Aimee jealous.

It quite takes up all my time, just enjoying being a donkey who was lucky enough to get the special banner that saved me. Mum says with the credit crunch (what is this - a chocolate bar or meusli bar....sounds interesting) it is going to be harder and harder to get the money to buy the special spangled banners that save sweet and kind donkeys like these.

She is using up all her limited brain cells trying to find ways to help them, but she may run out of time. It's very sad, they are all boys, all young, but the fact that they are boys with bits make them the hardest to buy the special banners for, as they need operations when they get to the UK and safety so that they can't annoy innocent Vodka donkeys by trying to lead them astray and make baby donkeys (my mum told me about this sort of thing).

It makes me sad that I am a happy, contented donkey, with all my life ahead of me, full of fun (despite the recent rain on my parade and having to go back into rugs and galloshes), enjoying my first summer of freedom and there are my friends, doomed, destined for the bad lorry to take them to their deaths. Life isn't fair, death is even more unfair.

What can I do? Is there anyone out there?

Is there anyone out there? Finding homes isn't the problem, it's finding the dosh to buy them and bring them to safety.

Maybe if I gave up my dinner (I get special nice donkey food in my manger every night) it would help. Mum says no, I can still have my dinner, as it isn't that much but I will need to think big picture...Not sure what this means but I will try.

Kevin Castrated

Yes the deed has been done, Dinkum, known as Kevin, but now hopefuly known as Oz (how confusing) has had his bits off....ouchy ouchy....

Padraig didn't fancy it at all, so he is booked to go into hospital this week (accompanied for moral support by Kevin) as poor old Kevin bled rather badly...don't blame him.

His supporter, Kevin, blanched at the very thought of it all....and has been nicknamed Kevin the Castrated which amuses him not all. Bad enough he has lost his axe (see previous post) but this is getting a bit personal.

Thankfully Oz is fine, just a bit tender.

Dinkum Has a Name Change

Unfortunately there was already a donkey at Sussex Horse Rescue Trust called Dinkum, so having two would be confusing.

Pauline, who looks after the sanctuary, was going to rename him Kevin, in honour of our Australian friend, Kevin Chambers, who helped pay for Dinkum and buy him the special banner which saved him from going to Italy. But a donkey called Kevin, I think not.

Mum suggested Casey (KC as in KC and the Sunshine Band - he plays guitar and does these funny things where they have Weekend Warrior things and they play loud music....not for me I think) but he doesn't like that as he has just parted company with his band members - something about a diva singer who can't sing - well maybe I should audition....I wouldn't need a mike at all.

So he has suggested Oz or Ozzie which I think is cool - my mate Oz in Sussex, maybe he will text me.

Mum says he is very very lucky as there are another two donkeys that haven't got the special banners that says they are saved. She contacted The Scottish Sun again to see if they could do something for them, as all my publicity and nice picture is great but it didn't raise one single euro towards another donkey having their special banner.

I will have to think about what more I can do. It concerns me so much that my hair is falling out - mum says it is more to do with the heatwave.....

Revenge on the Stylist

Well, my erstwhile stylist, aka mum, went to her hairdresser today and I have to say I can hardly keep a straight donkey face - what a mess....

Oh well, I suppose it will grow back in time.

Snigger, Snigger, Snigger, hee haw, hee haw, hee haw....

Oh I am dancing around having a good old laugh......

Not letting her anywhere near me again with scissors as she might cut off my ear or tail.

Vodka's Stylist Arrives

Well, my 'stylist' arrived tonight and I have to say I am not at all pleased - I was at the very least expecting Nicky Clarke or some 'name' with experience of dressing long hair - but instead it is someone who looks awfully like mum and clutching a comb and pair of scissors.

This is just not on. I want a salon professional to sort out my grunge look, which even I have to say is not very suitable for summer.

My stylist did say that part of my problems with my current look have been caused by neglect i.e. she hasn't combed me. She tried to explain it by saying that when I arrived the last thing I wanted was to be teased and combed to within an inch of my life, and she had hoped that when I shed my coat in the summer, most of the problems would disappear then. But no, I have matty bits in sensitive places, and these will either have to be combed out, scissored out, or clipped with electric clippers.....

So after an hour, I am a patch work quilt. I had to have lots of bits scissored off my hind legs so I am bald there, plus there is a nasty bit near by elbow that has had a first go at. There are bits of me all over the stable.

Needless to say, I did not leave a tip.

Vodka Page 3 Girl

Well, what can a Vodka donkey say other than fame at last.

Mum says remembers the peril of fame, but frankly I'm not listening. I can see red carpets beckoning, guest appearances by Vodka donkey - mum says fine but perhaps I might need to go to stage school first to learn about manners in public, etc. Nonsense, I'm a natural.

Even the photographer said so when I tried to eat his camera and also search him for polo mints - none, don't they come properly briefed on how to treat stars. I mean artistes, like me, we have our list of what needs to be on set before we arrive - and it's a long list. And getting longer the more I think about it.

Ferguson was very upset as they didn't want to take his picture, no matter how hard he tried to get into between me and that long lens....eventually he was made to go in the field out of the way. Aimee tried hard to play it cool, and be nonchalant (see my French is still there), but she failed miserably, I could tell she really wanted to be in the shot but who needs a spotty upstart when you have star quality in the giraffe donkey.

Oh well, I think I'd better call my agent and find out what is planned for me for next week, then I'd better catch up on my beauty sleep before my stylist arrives.

Two More Donkeys are Saved

Dinkum and Padraig arrived in the UK yesterday - mum got a call to say that they were due in and in the afternoon another call to say that the good lorry had delivered them to Sussex. Dinkum is the brown donkey on the right. Padraig is the one on his own. Dinkum is 5 years old and Padraig is 3 years old.

They are going to be southern donkeys and are not making the long journey to Scotland. Mum has a very kind friend who is in charge of a big horse pony and donkey sanctuary in Sussex - Sussex Horse Rescue Trust - now I would change the name. It could be the Vodka Sanctuary or something like that, bit more zing to it.

Anyway Pauline has had her arm twisted - just like Helen at Scottish Borders Donkey Sanctuary - to take some donkeys, so she has the two boys....both with their bits on - mum says that will be short lived.....anyway we really look forward to hearing how they get on.

They were both saved only because a couple of very special people dug deep into their own wallets and helped pay for them - Step forward Kevin in Australia and Anne in the UK. Now Kevin is unlikely to meet his god-donkey but there is every chance that Anne may one day meet up with Padraig.

Mum did her usual stuff in getting publicity in the local paper for them, but she says maybe the credit crunch is biting as when she campaigned for little Vodka and Cazuax, she raised more than £400 from local paper, but this time £40! Maybe they just appreciate a quality donkey like Vodka, who knows, just disappointing when there are so many donkeys out there that need to be saved.

Another Donkey

Mum has been muttering that she is trying to save another donkey - well as long as it isn't coming here as it is cosy enough in the stable with the two titches without fitting in another donkey. We could have a mezzanine and shove Ferguson up there as he's the smallest, though I much prefer the idea of a Vodka Donkey Deluxe Suite, just for me.

Or an extension, personally I would go for a donkey wing just for us, away from those silly horses. We could have all our own things, our own food, and be perfectly independent. Mum says dream on. But we could have all sorts of gizmos like automatic watering, maybe a food hopper that keeps mangers permanently topped up with food, hay would magically descend like spaghetti from upstairs, I could design it all and it would be just perfect. Mum says I have been watching too much Wallace and Gromit and getting ideas about automation....

But back to this donkey.

Her friend in Australia has promised to send some funny foreign money called dollars and this will help save another one, who is to be called Dinkum, as in Fair Dinkum, which is something these funny foreigners say. I guess Dinkum will just have to grin and bear it, at least if he is saved, who cares about names - he can just pretend it isn't him and ignore when they call for him.

I mean they don't even call me Vodka, I get Voddy, Vodkin, so I guess names aren't that important. Being saved is the thing.

Finally I can cast a clout

It is almost the end of June and finally I feel confident that I could let go my winter coat.

Aimee and Ferguson have both shed their winter coats, and been combed so that they now are nice and sleek, though Ferguson is still a bit furry and fuzzy in places.

But not me, not a hair. I am still a hairy mammoth. This morning, I was absolutely covered in shavings so mum got the comb out and about an hour later, most of me was shavings and tangle free - she still hasn't got as far as my tummy (muchos tanglos in there) and there are some funny matted bits on my hind legs that no one is going to get near if I have anything to do with it.

She told me not to be a silly donkey and made my wear my headcollar and stand still - Dad was the other side of the door holding the rope (sensible out of reach of giraffe legs) while mum combed and teezed my long long coat. She said her poor old wrists aren't up to all this grooming so next time she is going to send me to a salon and they can have a go at a cut and blow dry. Maybe I will have a caffe latte and croissant at the same time - I didn't get one today, so I didn't leave a tip.

I still have tuggy bits on my fore head - another area you are NOT going to get anywhere near with a comb - but all in all I am a bit of a more fluffy and sleek donkey. I got that funny fly rug put on again (though it had been freshly laundered and didn't smell quite so much of donkey pee as I had lain down with it on and come up not smelling of roses but something slightly more eau de donk.....Mum complains that doing my laundry is not terribly good for her washing machine and her clothes sometimes come out smelling a bit suspect after my laundry has been done.

Simple answer, I feel I should have my own washing machine, a commercial size one so all my winter rugs can be laundered and pressed, and re-proofed etc. I will send instructions to room service immediately.

They Try to Kill Me

I was given funny food this morning, not had it before. It tasted very nice, so being a naughty donkey, I ate is much too fast and choked on it.

I stood there, spluttering, panicking - maybe the folks from the fat farm had tracked me down as they don't like donkeys to escape their clutches and they had put something in the food to finish me off - if plutonium can get into food in hotels in London then who knows what they could have thought of for a poor Vodka donkey.

Mum rolled her eyes and muttered something about more vets' bills - being a skinflint, she decided to take action herself. She got this funny plastic thing and squirted lots of water into my mouth to make me swallow - as she said, quite why I couldn't just have a drink and clear my throat was beyond her. After a dozen or so of these funny squirty things that made me cough and splutter even more - I am sure she intended to drown me - suddenly it was gone and I could breathe again.

After all that, I was off, out to the field, there was no way I was going to be fooled by that funny food again....

Funnily enough I had it again for my dinner.....

Belle is Saved

We have been on tenterhooks - the old mare at the fat farm, my friend Belle, was given the special spangled banner which said she was saved, but sadly when the good lorry came for her, she was too ill to travel to safety in the UK. Not too ill to travel to Italy for slaughter in the bad lorry but too weak to come here.

I was so disappointed, it was so so cruel for her to get her hopes up and then, tragedy. A real kick in the teeth (bet she has had a few of those in her time).

But the good news is that money was found to pay for her Belle Freedom Banner - and she has found a home in France where she can enjoy the rest of her life. Even better news, her daughter Romana was also given the special banner and has been saved too - she is now here as well, learning how to behave nicely and trust people again.

I am delighted, I have run up and down, shouted my head off and yelled to everyone who wants to listen BELLE IS SAFE. It has quite made my day as I have fretted about her since I left her behind.

Sadly there are more donkeys at the fat farm - mum says one is the image of Aimee - but three donkeys here are enough, although she would no doubt find space for one if she had to - I know she is a soft touch.

Brioche - Non Merci

The two Scottish donkeys need to take medicine (no, not for the French donkey pox I gave to them but they have been bitten the the notorious Scottish midgie and poor old Ferguson had an allergic reaction to cream put on to soothe those horrible midgie bites - he now looks like the Elephant man).

To encourage the swallowing of this medicine, it was skillfully placed by she who claims she is mum on pieces of brioche - all designed to confuse and confound innocent donkeys into eating this foul tasting liquid. It seems to work, as they have eaten them all.

Of course, I should be familiar with brioche, given my foreign French background, but I feign total fear and refuse to eat it. Seriously, I sniff it, prod it, stand on it but eat it I will not. Then, just as I was overcoming my terrible fear of this foreign food, Ferguson steals it and snaffles the lot.

Mum says serves me right - never leave a brioche unattended is all I can say.

Vodka Donkey Bar

I am now a famous donkey.

Mum says don't get too big headed as it is only due to you being called Vodka - nonsense, people appreciate a quality donkey never mind the name.

Inventive Leisure, a company which owns a large number of Vodka Bars (can I visit please) has sent me some money to help save other donkeys who are in trouble - my mum gave this money to her friend Helen at Scottish Borders Donkey Sanctuary, and as a result, Charlotte, a 20 year old donkey, and Kofi, a young toffee coloured donkey, are now in Melrose and enjoying their freedom. My money helped pay for a bit of their special banners which said they were saved.

I am so pleased that not only did I help my best friend Cazaux - my ex friend given what he said about my fly protection suit (you just don't want to know how horrible he was about that) - but these two other donkeys are now safe and sound, with a bit of help from the special Vodka Donkey.

I am looking forward to visiting the nearest Revolution Vodka Bar where I hope they have named a special pink cocktail in honour of this very special donkey - I am just hoping that when I have my Vodka Donkey Open Day I will be able to raise more money to save another little donkey - there is such a sweet sweet coloured one on the fat farm at the moment, mum says he is very very like grumpy old Aimee donkey. But she can't afford to do anything herself, other than offer him temporary residence.

Oh well, I shall plot how I can save him as well.

Vodka Donkey Fashion Victim

This is just such a bad look for me - I am so disappointed that Yves Saint Laurent has popped his clogs as I was always hopeful that a special creation for a special donkey might wing my way - certainly this could be improved on.......

Also more to the point it is second hand rose - passed down from Aimee as it doesn't fit her very well.

She is in HUGE trouble, SHE got a brand new rug, and has managed to rip it to shreds today - first day she wore it.....I am avoiding mum, she just mutters about £45 down the drain......b....y donkey......I am sure she isn't talking about me. I am perfect.

My Pregnancy Scare is Over

Vodka donkey will not be having a baby Vodka donkey - mum had been concerned that I might be carrying Cazaux junior, given that he still had his bits and we were 'close' but it was not to be - I have been rampantly in season, scaring the living daylights out of poor diminutive Ferguson who would need a step ladder to conquer the Giraffe donkey.

I have flirted, flaunted myself, reversed into him, molested him but nothing - no reaction at all other than telling me to go and behave myself. When I stuck my donkey bits right in his face, he got very upset and ran off.....Oh for my gallic gallant Cazaux, these Scottish donkeys are a bit of a let down....I am much too young to stay at home and knit, I want to go clubbing!

Mum finds it very funny that a funky french filly cannot attract a dour Scottish donkey (now who else could that be we wonder....). She has offered to lend me some Chanel No 5 to see if that helps. Watch this space.

Spring Has Sprung

There is this mysterious green stuff shooting up everywhere - yippee it is spring grass.

All these tender young shoots of succulent grass are just emerging - I am really enjoying nipping off the top couple of inches - it tastes so sweet - I really like the reeds and some of the wild flowers are very tasty as well.

I am feeling much better. Mum says I am looking much stronger - a couple of days ago I had my first mad five minutes, I got down in the grass, had a roll, got up, bucked, kicked, galloped all over the place, braying and showing off. Mum stood and laughed at me. She says typical no camera just when you want it.

Aimee and Ferguson tried to keep up but with their short little legs they could not keep up with the Gazelle Donkey! I was so so fast - then it happened, oops down in a heap, tried to take a corner just a bit too zippy, legs went and down I went. Remember the scene from Bambi on the ice, well the Giraffe/Gazelle donkey went down just like that.

Oh how to get up and pretend it hadn't happened...dignified....nonchalant (notice my vocabulary I still remember my French).... the other two were sniggering like mad, couldn't keep a straight face. Oh well, must be more careful as mum says legs can snap and this is very bad news for donkeys.

A giraffe in a stable

Mum thought you would like this picture of me - it really shows my perfect ears and very kind expression - I like the light shining on me, kind of soulful. Since I came to Scotland, light has come into my life, my worries have gone away, I am a happy donkey who just chills out.

This is my stable which I share with the other two squirts who are not quite giraffe donkeys - I am at least 15 inches taller than the other two, without heels, and I could I suppose just jump over the little door that was installed so the two tiny tots could look out.

In the morning when I am waiting, patiently, for breakfast in bed, I can do a very very good giraffe and get most of my top half over the door.....particularly when the feed bucket comes near. No flies on the Vodka donkey.

I have A Tail

It may be only about 1/4 of an inch but there is definitely the first sproutings of a tail - it has a long way to go - and I wish it would hurry up and get going as we are now into the pesky midgy season when a tail would be useful - mum has threatened to buy me a hair extension as a temporary tail - now what colour do I want, burgundy, blonde - quite fancy something to bring out my golden brown highlights.

Watch this space, one day there will be a proper donkey tail.

Another Death In The Family

This is getting worrying - another one gone. This time it was a ginger hen - I didn't know her name (mum says she didn't have one as she, and 15 others like her, had come from a chicken concentration camp and all the hens looked very alike).

She got something called a prolapse - sounds nasty - and it couldn't be fixed, so the nice vet man who gave me an injection, gave her an injection which made her die - I am very relieved that he didn't get them mixed up, or I might be a Dead Vodka Donkey which would make updating my blog a bit difficult. Now that I know that injections can be good injections and bad injections I may be less willing to cooperate - mental note, develop needle phobia like Rosie cob and faint when you see one....

Mum says that hens like this little one don't tend to live very long, as they spend the first year or so of their lives laying eggs all the time, and they get very tired. Even if they get one of those special saved banners - these ones are much less expensive and only cost £0.50p per hen unlike the many many £s that are required for a special Vodka donkey - their little bodies are so worn out by the time they get their banner and are saved, they don't live for more than a year or two.

This is worrying as I intend to live much longer than that if you don't mind.

Mum says that if only people would pay more money for food, then little hens would have a better life, and wouldn't end up in these horrible cages where they can't move around and scratch and generally do the things that a little hen would like to do.

So farewell little hen - I am getting a bit worried, who is going to be number three.

I Meet The Jab Man

He came back again - I first met him four weeks ago when he inspected my still scrawny and skinny self and gave me this funny thing called an injection which is allegedly to keep me fit and well and stop my jaws locking together - never known this to happen so far but best to be safe.

Anyway this time round he wanted to give me another of those funny injection things - calls himself a vet - and almost didn't recognise me as I have got a lot bigger. Mum was saying that I was looking a bit fatter and rounder, but she says it is nice to have it confirmed by someone who doesn't see me that often.

I was declared to be a very large but fine donkey - what this means I'm not altogether sure but it's better than being written off as a runt. I just wish Cazaux could see what a fine filly I have turned into.

The Cruelty of Fate

Mum is very very upset - she had been so pleased that Belle, the old mare at the fat farm, had been saved and was coming to the UK to end her days.

Belle, if you don't know her like I do, is a big chestnut mare who in her youth was a total stunner - a really good looking horse. Quite why she has fallen so far in the world to be worth only the meat on her ribs I don't know, but some kind person bought the good banner for her that said she was saved. I was so pleased for her as she was a very gentle dignified girl who should be spending her final years in leisure and comfort, not as someone's dinner.

We were all getting ready to welcome her to her new country but sadly she was not well enough to travel and so she is still at the fat farm and everyone is trying to find someone kind in France to take her - mum has been in touch with racehorse trainer Francois Doumen in case he might know someone and asked her friends in France if anyone could help. But it is so difficult to find the right place for her.

Isn't life cruel - to be so close to being safe and having it all snatched away from you, just as your hoof gets onto the ramp of the good lorry!

Even worse, Belle's daughter is also there - how bad is that, mum and daughter both going to be killed and having to watch it happen to a member of the family. Belle's daughter looks so thin as well. I am well out of there I fear.

Mum says life just isn't fair at times. It can have the cruellest of ironies at times.

Haylage - One Day Only

We have run out of hay - disaster!!!! How could that silly woman let this happen, knowing how much I enjoy my dinner every night.....will it be a return to starvation.

She says it's not her fault that our hay supplier was waiting for more to arrive and she ordered in good time. Anyway, to tide us over, she bought some very sweet smelling haylage and just as I was enjoying it, the delivery of hay turned up - so we are back to the standard hay bales.

I'm not sure if I am happy or sad - it is nice to see all that hay stacked up neatly waiting for me to eat it (makes me feel secure to know it is there and that there should be plenty for a semi starved donkey) but on the other hand I was quite enjoying the new flavour of haylage - much sweeter, softer, a bit more aromatic, I could get used to it!

We have finished the bale that was opened and there are two left, but I have been told these are 'emergency' only rations and I shouldn't get too excited that they will be opened soon.

The Wooly Mammoth

Mum says that today I resemble a woolly mammoth - my long coat is absolutely plastered with shavings as I have been lying down having a good sleep - and I look totally unkempt.

She says I just need some tusks and I would be spitting image of a woolly mammoth - naturally I take great exception to this, as I am a fine, giraffe donkey of the Poitou persuasion.

Vodka Suffers Post Traumatic Stress

Mum thinks I am suffering from this - although I am eating, sleeping and improving in my physical health, she feels that I am very blank/zombie like, not taking an interest, being very passive and submissive and well just not responding.

She thinks it is a bit like I am a concentration camp survivor - I saw the selections, I saw them being herded into the bad lorries that took them to their deaths - to cope with it, I just switched off. I hid, made myself small and invisible, as that way you didn't get picked out, or you didn't get singled out for bad treatment.

To get by, I sort of shrank, disappeared and even now that I am safe, I just don't believe it and don't know yet how to behave differently.

She says that many concentration camp survivors suffer guilt for having survived, and while she doesn't think this is what is wrong with me, I have just become so used to skulking in the background, trying to blend in, not stick not, not be noticed, that I don't know how to stop it now

She says she would love to see me display some naughtiness, some spirit but that at the moment I just am not capable of it - I receive affection but I don't respond to it very much as I don't know what to do. Hopefully I will learn how to do this.

At the moment she says maybe the best thing is to leave me alone, not make demands on me and let me work it out for myself. I will have to think about this as I know that the other donkeys are much naughtier than me.

She thinks that the constant changing of the herd, horses ponies and donkeys arriving all the time, you make a friend and then wham you turn around and they have gone to be killed - it must have been very unsettling for me, and also that she doesn't know if other horses bullied me so that I got so thin - she says that she looked on the website to see the horses there now and many of them are looking very skinny, probably as the spring grass hasn't come through yet and a lot of them look very very poor.

I want to be a good donkey - I never do anything wrong as I'm scared of the consequences if I do - will she send me away again, will that bad lorry come for me? I am yet to be convinced that this is my forever home and that I can chill out and relax and stop worrying.

My Generosity Knows No Bounds

Aimee now had ringworm as well - mum is less than impressed, Ferguson had just about finished his course of powders when Aimee (who we thought was a carrier like me but no signs) has become even more spotty than she is normally.

So we are now all being dosed with these funny powders in our food to get rid of it.

Ferguson is irate - his view on it is that it is like getting a dose of the .... from a french filly - he is not at all amused.

Mum is just praying that she doesn't get it!

The Sleeping Beauty

It was lovely and warm today - I was so sleepy that I just had to lie down in the field and have a doze.

Mum saw me - it is the first time I have slept in the field and she wished she had been able to take a picture of a Vodka donkey dozing flat out - ears still flicking in case of danger.

It reminded me of hot weather in France or wherever it was before I came to Scotland - maybe I am going to have lots of sunny days and maybe the odd Vodka Cocktail at sundown.

Sounds good to me.

A Death in the Family

Mum has been a bit sad recently - her cat Doodle got ill and died very suddenly on Easter Monday - she was unable to breath and despite lots of pills and potions, she died in mum's arms.

Doodle had a very sad life till she met mum and dad. She was living rough in Bognor Regis, having lost her home - she was a very long haired cat and needed lots of grooming so all her coat was matted and tangled - so much so it hurt her skin as the knots pulled her skin when she moved. She was cowering and hiding in a coal shed and someone burnt her with cigarettes!

She was finally rescued and taken into care but no one wanted her, as she was so nervous and such a scaredy cat that when people came to see her she would hide. She did get a new home but it only lasted a few days as she was too scared to come out and use her litter tray so they called her dirty - she wasn't, she just was so so frightened.

She was in care for nearly 18 months, living in a cattery pen, until mum and dad took her home. She lived under their bed for a year - with a litter tray and food tray and yes she worked out which were which! - and it was nearly two years before she was brave enough to venture out and explore the house. She never really got outdoors much - she occasionally walked out onto the lawn but never more than a few feet from the door - as all the bad things that happened to her happened outside and she didn't want to take the risk that she couldn't get inside again to where it was safe.

Mum said it was very unfair that she had been taken from us as she wasn't a very old cat and she was enjoying her new home in Scotland and we had been looking forward to seeing Doodle outdoors on the decking, having tea and sandwiches, in the summer. But it was not to be.

Mum says that it was just a sad accident, that I shouldn't worry, that Doodle's death doesn't mean I am at risk - she says they buried her, they didn't eat her or anything horrible like that. They say she is buried on the hill so that she can see everywhere, all the places she never got to explore herself. Mum says that a lot of her cats are quite old now and that it is likely that some of them will die before I do but I shouldn't worry, it is just how life is.

I find it very confusing, in France many of the young foals die and I don't understand that, when they should have such long lifes ahead of them. Often their mothers die with them or have to watch them being killed. I just can't understand these things at all, it is just too too hard.

Doodle's resting place is very beautiful. Maybe one day I can visit it and prune the shrubs and flowers, I feel I have a latent talent for landscaping.

I learn from Cazaux - Be Generous

I have been very generous, I have given my new friend, Ferguson, ringworm.

Mum noticed that he seemed to be looking a bit panda like and there it was, the tell tale circles! She was not impressed.

She said the only likely candidate was me and that both Aimee and I are carriers but don't show the symptoms at all. Evidently Aimee has past form - when she arrived several years ago, Mouse donkey came down with ringworm! So she is a carrier too and she is fine so the girls are ok and it is the little fellow who is covered in circles!

Ferguson has to eat this special powder which will make him better and stop his hair falling out - he complains that it is very itchy.

Some of my fan club were due to visit me this weekend but they have been cancelled as Ferguson is infectious and no one wants him to be generous with his fungus. Mum is itching herself but she keeps saying it is only the idea of ringworm that is making her itch!

My Friend Cazaux

My new mum says that she has had news of my old friend and protector, the brave Cazaux.

Evidently, with the weather and everything, he is still not separated from his boy bits so had been 'yarded' as they say - no not a member of a gang but imprisoned on the yard as he is not allowed to socialise with sensitive jenny donkeys, which are everywhere at the Donkey Sanctuary. Mum says there are some very fine funky fillies there and the old fella's heart is pounding with excitement and spring almost in the air.

But finally the day came when he was taken out to what will be his new field - ok he is a home alone donkey, but he can see other potential friends nearby and it means he can have a gallop and a buck and kick - he also shows that a total poseur he is by advertising the sanctuary.

I think they will have to redesign all their publicity material to feature Cazaux!

It is wonderful to see him again as he was a good friend to me and we have travelled a long way together. Ferguson, my new boy, is tiny and a bit of a wimp compared to the gallant Cazaux - he just does not quite have that gallic charm that oozes from Cazaux. Oh, will I ever see him again?

La Neige

It was very white this morning, bitterly cold, that cruel cruel mum said I should go out and stretch my legs - I was very reluctant, what was wrong with breakfast in bed, followed by a snooze, read the sunday papers, brunch, another snooze, then dinner......

Not much to ask. But no, we got turfed out - my face says it all. I thought I had been rescued, taken to a wonderful new life.....well no, they have no consideration at all.

The White Stuff

Funny white stuff falling from the skies, feels funny and cold. Makes my eyelashes look very long and pretty.

It started this afternoon, little hard balls of white frosty things, got into my mane and my fluffy face. Don't understand it at all.

Stood for ages, staring at it, then those people who look after me rushed up, opened gates, and I was safe indoors eating my supper.

Wonder if it will be safe to go out tomorrow or if there will be more of this white stuff....

He Who Saws At Teeth Cometh

We were brought in early today - huh, and it was nice weather for once, so I was a bit grumpy at being disturbed.

The 'vet' was here - great trepidation, sedation to Rosie horse who the vet thinks is a problem horse as the only time they saw her before was when she had a sore tummy and behaved very badly - so the rest of us were angelic in comparison and don't have to live up to much to be better behaved than Rosie.

I was sounded from all angles, and then had a needle stuck in me to protect me from something horrible called tetanus, which locks your jaws together and you die in a lot of pain. Now I can pass on that thank you.

I had this funny thing put in my mouth and my teeth were inspected from all angles - had I remembered to brush this morning, was I minty fresh? I seemed to pass ok as they didn't get the funny raspy thing and try to file away my little dainty dentures. Reckoned I was just a baby but a bit more flossing would be useful. Will do my best.

Ferguson was excellent - there was a student vet and she got to practice on him as he is so good he just stands there and yawns and lets it all happen. Molly horse is also a saintly horse when it comes to dentals, again she just poses with teeth and they can get on with it.

The spotty Aimee is the worst, she wriggles and wriggles and tries to evade but eventually she was declared ship shape or whatever.

And then the moment - was Rosie going to disgrace herself. The sedation in her food hadn't had much effect, not even a drooping of an eyelid - mum said she will fight it you know. Anyway, headcollar on, mum gets her scruffed so that it sedates her a bit more and one side of mouth is done. Rosie reckons it is finished and refuses to be caught again, but after a bit of gentle reasoning with her, she is brave enough to have the other side done. Now the bad bit - needle phobic Rosie has to be vaccinated - I never even flinched but this silly big horse almost faints at the sight of a needle - anything this time, with her eye covered, she manages to be brave enough for her jab. Sighs of relief all round.

Mum says 'she isn't as bad as you think, she is a total coward under neath it all', vet is grateful to be alive and intact.

Not a bad result all round.

Mount Fuji

After we had been sharing a stable for a few days, mum said, it looks like you have all settled down as the next morning, we were all covered in shavings from lying down.

Fergus looks like Mount Fuji, a nice top dressing of shavings on his back. He can snore a bit but otherwise he doesn't take up too much room.

Me, my shaggy coat is covered in shavings, they are everywhere, I got down, had a good snooze, a bit of a roll, all before breakfast time. I am getting the hang of living here. Not so worried all the time, not lying awake at night wondering if the bad lorry is nearby. I am relaxing so that I can eat more and put on weight. Mum says she now has to hunt for my ribs and that I have put a little bit more bottom - no longer quite a size zero.

She was worried that when I went out into the field, the change of diet might give me a gippy tummy and I would lose all the nourishment from my feed, but no, I am fine. In fact, she was complaining that since my arrival, the number of wheelbarrows needed to muck out in the morning has risen from 2 to 3! All down to me. I am proud of myself.

Pink is Not Perfect

Mum has this thing that I am a pink donkey - well ladylike, girly etc. So this pink thing was put in the corner of the stable. Well none of us were going to go near it. We all snorted, stamped our feet, refused point blank.

Mum explained that one portion of dinner was in it so it was a bit silly not to eat from it but no, I wasn't going anywhere near it, which meant that Aimee and I were trying to eat out of the same feeding dish. This tends to lead to words - she doesn't understand my French swear words so it doesn't have quite the desired effect.

Eventually brave little brown person, aka Fergus, had a go, the manger is a wee bit too high for him as it was positioned for giraffe neck and he needs elevator shoes to get to it, but he did his best.

Mum says 'don't you know the cost of these things? ' - well no, I don't, and why should I?

Eventually the spotty one also had a look in it. I am still not convinced that it is ok so I will stick to the other one, the old shabby one that I like.