It may start to seem like all we do around here is loll about in the sun. It’s not far from the truth… we do our lolling after managing full time jobs and then working on the house, but we find time to fit it in.
And you might think it’s all grazing and doe-eyes in the pasture, but about the time the sun goes down our two little girls turn into heathens.
Not really heathens, it’s just the best time of the day for donkey wrastlin’.
We like to hang out there and watch the girls go crazy. PJ has a new trick where she tried to get me to join in the fun by pawing her foot on the ground like a bull in the ring and then charging at me…
She only comes about half way and then turns around and runs off. It might be menacing if she wasn’t all of 30-inches tall.
We also found out the donkeys don’t mind a little cocktail in the evening if they can steal a sip. Which, MysteryMan is highly protective of his rum-and-coke, so they usually don’t.
Not to mention that when we were down in Texas, MysteryMan’s grandpa informed us that my sweet little eight-month-old babies “might be bred.” You read that right… bred. As in baby donkeys.
As you would expect, my first reaction was to go out and whip the ass (literally) that was messing with my girls, but MysteryMan’s grandpa just smiled with a twinkle in his eye and said “that little jack is frisky.” No. Kidding.
We’re really hoping for NOT bred– for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that young mama’s often reject their babies and I’m not ready for hourly bottle feeding– but since donkey gestation is anywhere from 11-13 months, we really won’t know until next year. But we’re trying to keep them off the booze until then. Just in case.
If I ever start a rock band? I’m gonna call it ‘Donkey Wrastlin’.
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