Monday 29 December 2008

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....

Friday 26 December 2008

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

Friday 12 December 2008

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.

Sunday 7 December 2008

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.

Tuesday 2 December 2008

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.