Saffy Super Cat is Dead

Little Saffy left us today, everyone is in pieces.

The elderly British Blue had to be pts this morning, as she had gone off her food (mental note keep eating Vodka), and a large growth in her tummy was discovered.

She was taken to the vets yesterday and had tests, and given some painkillers and other stuff to see if it would help her, and she was perky last night, so they tell me as I am not allowed in the house to watch tv at night - why not I may ask?

Anyway this morning she was poorly again and she was operated on to try to remove the growth but sadly it was too big and she has the beginnings of peritonitis, which mum says is something you don't want to have, so it was the final curtain for the wonderful Saffy.

Mum says she was the bravest, feistiest cat in the world, who ruled the household with an iron paw. Everyone is very very upset and there is an empty basket in the kitchen.

Winter Wonder Land

It has been very snowy here, so we had a white Christmas and I did my best braying along with Bing Crosby - personally I think I have a better tone to my voice and certainly more hair....

I have had my special xmas meal with stout and carrots and apples - quite why I don't get this every day is a mystery but mum says I must be Drink Aware - well I would be aware of the nice taste of Mackeson as it adds flavour to that miserable sugar beet stuff she says I must eat for fibre, with a feeble topping of pony mix on top. Honestly, it is a bit frugal.

However, I have grown at least another 3-6 inches since June - the wonderful nice colourful rugs mum bought for me for this winter, and which fitted me perfectly in June when I did a twirl in them before they were put away to 'keep for good' - well they don't fit me now. My nice donkey ass is exposed - I have grown another 3 inches along my back and I show a bit of bottom and tail.....mum is muttering about the fact that three brand new rugs which are 5ft now need tob e 5'3....she says I will just have to make do as she isn't buying me any more.

At Christmas time, and this is my second Christmas here, I always reflect on how lucky I am - I should, by rights, not be alive, as I was headed for the abattoir. Instead here I am, a fit, healthy happy large donkey who just can't believe how fortunate I was to be picked out and brought to safety. Every day is a bonus for me.

As I stand in the snow, watching the robins and all the other birds eat the chickens' feed, and also the food at their feeding stations (mum says she spends almsot as much feeding wild birds as she does me, I knew it, I am being rationed...), I can only say thank you Revolution Vodka Bars for putting up the money to buy me and save my life. I think of all my friends who didn't make it, who are long gone, Elizabeth, Lak Un and her baby foal, all the others who didn't even have names. I got a chance and they didn't.

As the year ends, it has been a pretty dreadful year for horses - it's been bad for people who with credit crunches (is this a new horse cereal I haven't tried yet?) - but it has been really really bad for horses ponies and donkeys, as so many have hit hard times. Mum says that if I had been unlucky enough to be at the fat farm this year, I probably would not have been saved, as it has been so so much harder to raise money as everyone is feeling the pinch, and there are so many more horses and donkeys in need. So she says that I was doubly lucky in that my date with fate came at just the right time, when there was a way out for me.

Every night, as I got to bed in my stripey jim jams (also 3 inches too short), I say a little prayer for all the horses and donkeys out there who are in bad places, cold, tired, hungry, destined to die. I wish I was Vodka Superdonkey and could wave a wand and make it a happy time for you, but as I can't all I can do is say I'm sorry.

So Near, But So Gone

For months and months, we have struggled to raise the money to save this plain little mare and her plain little colt foal.

We have made and sold xmas cards, done collections, sold things on Ebay, you name it, mum and a number of other like minded people have raided their piggy banks and found pennies to add to the pile.

Finally the large sum of £1000 was reached and we could say to the farmer at the fat farm, Lak Un, the little lady, can be home in time for Christmas.

Sadly, she is gone. They have so many anonymous horses there and she was only little and nothing special, but they looked and she wasn't there. So she and her baby won't be having that wonderful special Christmas in freedom and in safety but are both probably dead. More than likely they went to the butchers' fairs, or on the lorry to Italy. They are probably hanging up for sale now.

Mum is very very upset. While there are lots of other mums and their babies waiting to be saved, and one will benefit from Lak Un's demise, the reason she was chosen was that she was so hopeless, nothing much to recommend her, not a looker, nothing going for her. Which is why she touched your heart.

Mum says I should remember that when I was on the site for sale, I looked like a little scrap of fur and it was only my face, that sad young little confused face that touched her heart and said save me please. So she did.

It was two years ago in December that she first saw me, and it took her till March to get all the money together to save me and my friend Cazaux, what if I had been like Lak Un, gone.

At times like this, I realise just what a very lucky donkey I am.

Vodka Horse & Pony Magazine Charity Donkey of the Year

Vodka, our little princess, was voted by readers of Horse and Pony Magazine as their charity donkey of the year. Up against fierce opposition - including her stable companion Aimee - Vodka beat off all contestants and is thrilled to be the winner. She promises to promote world peace and all the usual stuff, and awaits her crown and sash! She hopes there might also be a throne but we have explained to her that this might not be possible.

Her mum hopes that she can manage to post the entire article but so far the technology involved is beyond her, so here are some of the individual pictures.

Little Donkey Blown Up - How Can People Do This?

I am in shock, mum has told me what has happened to a little donkey in Afghanistan - now that is somewhere I do not want to go on holiday if this is how they treat my friends.


"The Afghan army platoon has received some information that the insurgents were going to try to strap an improvised explosive device to a donkey and send it towards camp. Donkeys do not have the reputation of being the most pliant animal so it was treated with some scepticism at first.

Then in the afternoon the gate guard realised that there was something suspicious going on. A group had just let go of a donkey a short way from camp and hurried off. He tried to divert the animal with flares and other warnings. Obstinacy not being the best quality in that situation, the beast of burden eventually had to be stopped by a rifle shot.

The team went out and established there was something very suspicious under the bundle of hay carried by the donkey. Eventually one brave A&A warrior set fire to the hay with a flare from a distance and 30 seconds later there was a considerable explosion.

No one was hurt, swift appropriate actoin had saved them from an unusual attack but it is impossible to report a donkey IED up the chain of commant without a rye small at the ridiculousness of it or a feeling that the world is slightly off its axis."

The world has gone totally bonkers using an innocent donkey as a bomb, I am crying in my cornflakes. This just confirms that I am one of the luckiest donkeys in the world, mum says no one is getting near me with TNT.

It's Xmas Card Time

As a very very busy and innovative donkey, I am selling Xmas Cards this year - being generous I have let Aimee have the front page slot, but if you want any cards, for your discerning friends, they are printed up on nice gold glitter paper and cost £0.70p each - all proceeds and I mean ALL going to help save another donkey from slaughter.

This is how beautiful Aimee is on the card - get in fast and buy up our stock! I am on the back of the card looking suitably festive.

Bon Voyage and Send Me a Postcard

Mum says that these poor little fellows are being loaded onto the bad lorries, the ones that take them to either Italy (for the salami trade) or to a local killing place.

I wish I could be there to warn them, don't go in, jump the fence, run like stink. But I'm not, so they don't. If only I was Vodka Superdonkey I would swoop down there with my cloak flapping and scoop them all up and keep them safe. But I am only a very young but large brown French donkey who, while clever and smart, can't solve all the bad things that happen in the world. I am leaving that to Mr Obama - maybe he could do a flying visit to the butchers fairs and declare them unconstitutional or something. Equines don't like this idea of special rendition, we would prefer to stay at home please.

As an innocent young donkey, if I'd been there, would I have known that jumping ship now was a very good idea. Tunnel while you can, become a puissance donkey capable of jumping any fence and literally running for my life. Thankfully, though this was my destiny, I dodged it.

If fate hadn't intervened and given me that huge lucky break, what would I have done, gone on the lorry or had a tantrum. I suspect, that given how cowed, submissive and frightened I was, I would have gone one. I guess the brave Cazaux, my erstwhile companion, might have put up a bit of a fight, but being a gentleman, if I'd gone in I'm sure he would have too, just to look after me. I wouldn't have known any better. And anyway I wouldn't have been given much choice, as if you don't go, they beat you. So eventually you follow the others. And that's it, trapped.

This is the last time you will see the sky, taste grass, have a drink of water, enjoy a stretch, have a snooze. However long your journey, you probably won't be fed, or given any rest or water, you will just trundle on all through France, heading south to the barbaric country that is Italy.

Mum says it's a shame that such a cultured nation can have such peculiar habits, which extend to killing foals, killing pregnant mares. At least the French draw the line at that, you have to have the baby before they kill you.

The last thing you see at the market is sticks waving, folks shouting, and that's pretty much what you are going to see at the end of your final journey.

Bon voyage.