Buddy the Donkey

I live 6 miles from the Service Dog Project.  Sometimes six miles is too close, other times it is too far.  It’s too close when Carlene calls me because one of the puppies has run off onto the frozen pond to the small island and is too scared to come back to the shore.  I am the closest person to call who is crazy enough to arrive in minutes, jump out of my car, run out onto thinly frozen ice to retrieve the puppy.   The puppy weighed 50 pounds, I weigh 130.   The ice was not strong enough for our combined weight of 180lbs.  Fortunately the water in the pond was only chest deep, but it’s hard to wade through the icy water with 50 pounds of scared puppy wrapped around my head.

Living 6 miles away is too far when your washing machine breaks and you need to use one of the 5 washing machines on the farm.  I quickly learned that if I leave clothes in the washing machine, some SDP volunteer will put the load in the dryer, and eventually another volunteer will take it out of the dryer and fold my laundry.  The volunteer’s at the SDP are so amazingly efficient and highly motivated, that they fold my laundry when it’s left in laundry process.  As a result of this unexpected convenience, it took me MONTHS to fix my washing machine.

The volunteers at the SDP cook too!  They arrive with cellophane wrapped plates, plastic containers, and baggies of homemade everything.  They drop off their carefully prepared contribution to the SDP endless buffet and get right to work.  The beautiful thing for me is that the volunteers are all working so hard that they have no time to sit down and enjoy the vast array of food, but I do have time.   Hearty meals like lasagna, grilled chicken with veggies, pulled pork, chicken alfredo, topped off with homemade apple pies, chocolate cookies, and magically tasting brownies.   Having all of that just six miles away is one of my life’s current pleasures.

Having the SDP farm six miles away, means that I can live a duplicitous life.   The farm is my ‘dirty place’.  I have separate clothes for the farm.  I don’t wash these clothes often because they will just get dirty again.  In contrast, my house is a clean place.  The only animal here is my dog, and usually he gets a bath when he returns from the farm with me.   Although I have the land to keep horses at my own house, I know that “hooved animals make mud” and prefer a manicured lawn to a muddy mess.  The SDP farm has plenty of land so if one paddock gets too muddy, the horses and donkeys are moved to another.  So all of my horses and donkeys coexist at the farm with the 40+/- Great Danes.  This is where the conflict begins.

Crazy Carlene has the tendency to collect Great Danes.  I have a tendency to collect Horses.   She often counts the number of horses in the barn and complains.  I often count the number of dogs in the kennel and complain.  I have even tried to outsmart her by buying only horses of one color (Black), but she caught me by looking at the underside of the gelding on the crossties. The horses look so identical that it is hard to tell them apart.  This strategy has proven to be problematic as one horse is broke to ride, and the other is not, and friends often borrowed the broke horse to ride/hunt.   Fortunately, when the saddle was put on the unbroken horse and the girth tightened, it was easy to tell that it was the wrong horse when she exploded, instantly leaping and bounding around the aisle way of the barn.

Where Carlene and I agree is on the number of donkeys.  We both agree, that ‘one can never have too many donkeys.’

There is nothing cuter than a baby donkey.  And unlike other species, they retain much of their cuteness when they grow into adulthood.  Their personalities are similar to a cat because they do enjoy attention and a good scratch; but they also are similar to golden retrievers because they will literally do anything and compromise ALL for a handfed treat.

Donkeys can be as smart as a dog, but definitely lack the loyalty of a canine companion.  Their loyalty lies with the hand that feeds them.  Unlike a dog that loves everyone, donkeys remember people.  If a person was unkind to them, the donkey will be either fearful or unkind to that person for the rest of their lives.  Smart little creatures that bray when a new car pulls up the driveway.  So yes, basically great pets if you have the room and neighbors that are not nearby because donkeys bray LOUD.    The SDP neighbors are not too close so when a car pulls in the driveway and all 40 Great Danes are barking, and 5 donkeys braying it is a welcoming chorus rather than aggravating annoyance.

This year the chorus of donkeys grew when “Buddy” was found in Ohio.  I was sent a photo of a spotted donkey standing in at a muddy auction lot.  He was very thin and mangy looking.   His head hung low and his long ears drooped to either side.  Snotty mucus ran out his nose.   He certainly was a sad excuse for a donkey.   I have been told “somethings you just can’t un-see” and this image of the donkey was something I could not shake from my head.

I woke up the next morning with a plan.  I made a few calls and the donkey that was somewhere in Ohio was now officially mine and now my problem.  No worries, I had a plan.  I had a trip planned to Maryland to pick up Greg from a bike race, I would just swing by Ohio and grab the donkey along the way.  After Maryland, I was scheduled to be in Washington DC for several days of meetings. Greg would drive the donkey home to MA and I would get a one-way flight home.  The plan fell into place quite nicely and I packed my laundry basket, hooked up the trailer and headed towards Ohio.

It is remarkable that I managed to get a Ph.D without ever knowing that Ohio is not on the way to Maryland, in fact Ohio is 8 hours away from Annapolis, Maryland.  You may also question why I packed a laundry basket.  A laundry basket is the best form of luggage for a car trip.  It can fit everything you need for long trip and there is no zip, unzip or pawing through a bag.  Everything in a laundry basket is easy to see from the holes in the sides. Really, it’s my secret to efficient travel – I neatly pack all my belongings in one basket, throw my laptop on the top to keep everything nicely pressed and when I return I have a laundry basket of dirty clothes.

After 10 hours of driving and eating potato chips for entertainment, I arrived in the middle-of-nowhere Ohio where the poor little donkey stood in a muddy pen.   He looked unhealthy and smelled even worse than he looked.  He smelled so badly that I went to the local farm store bought a bucket, a thermometer and equine shampoo.  My new little “Buddy” was not going on my trailer with that ungodly stench.

I took Buddy’s temperature.  It was 103.2.  A normal temp or a horse/donkey is 100.  Therefore, he obviously had more issues than just being a skinny, smelly donkey.  I gave him fresh water, some medications to lower his temp and found a dry pen for him to stay the night.  Hopefully, he would be healthy for travel in the morning.

The next morning Buddy’s temp was slightly lower.  He had eaten his hay and looked more cheery.  My trailer is a Stock Trailer, which means it is essentially two square (box) stalls on wheels.  It is the most comfortable way for horses to travel.  The stalls were bedded with hay so if he wanted to lie down on the ride, he could.

It seemed that Buddy realized that I was his ticket out of the muddy hell-hole as he jumped right up on the trailer and off we went toward Annapolis, Maryland.

It was Friday morning and I had arranged for Buddy to spend the weekend in a quarantine barn just outside of Annapolis while I went to the end of the bike race to meet Greg.  The bike race was the Race Across America.  “RAAM” is the longest bike race in America.   The race begins in Oceanside, CA and ends in Annapolis, Maryland.  Greg was part of an 8 person team that would take 5 ½ days to pedal across America.  The culmination of the race is an awards ceremony at 7pm on Friday.  On Saturday, we would pack up the racing bicycles and the extensive pile of gear required to support 8 men pedaling for 5 days.  Saturday night we would then spend the night in Washington, DC.   Then Greg would head back to the quarantine barn on Monday morning and pick up Buddy on his way back up to Massachusetts.  It seems like a very complicated plan with many moving parts, but then again no rescue plan is ever simple.

I arrived at the quarantine barn at 4pm.  I had plenty of time to make it to Annapolis, get changed and be ready to be the supportive and adoring woman that Greg expected to have waiting for him at the finish line.

I carefully unloaded Buddy and walked toward the barn.  There was a small sign that read “Quarantine Facility: Proceed at your own horse’s risk.”   I had spoken to a woman name Wendy on the phone earlier.  She had agreed to care for Buddy for the weekend for a small fee.   When I entered the barn, I was pleased to see Wendy was waiting.  She walked briskly over to inspect Buddy.  She knew immediately that the donkey was not well.  I explained his medical condition and the medications I had administered.   My stomach sank when she took her hand and rubbed under his neck.

“He has a bump under his neck.  Probably a Strangles abscess.” She remarked.  “This donkey has strangles and can’t stay in this barn.” She said defiantly.

Strangles is the equine equivalent to strep throat.  It is highly contagious.  Strangles is the reason that people quarantine horses.  It is not usually fatal, but is annoyingly contagious if not maintained properly.

I tried not to sound flustered when I replied.  “Strangles?  I hope not, but even if he does, this is a quarantine barn.  Surely, you are set up to manage a contagious ailment like strangles?”

“We are a quarantine barn.  We can manage a horse that comes down with strangles while in the barn, but we don’t accept active cases of strangles into the barn.  It is our policy.  You will have to get this animal off the property immediately.”  When she said immediately, she meant it.   When I asked for help to find an alternate place to keep Buddy, she got angry and louder in insisting that I leave immediately.

Reluctantly, I loaded Buddy back on the trailer and headed toward Annapolis.  My mind was busy formulating a new plan.  Knowing that no barn in the area would take a donkey with active strangles, I figured my best alternative was to keep him in the trailer for the weekend.   It was a basically a big stall full of hay and straw.  He would be fine in there.  My only problem was that Greg would not be fine when I showed up to the bike race with the donkey in the trailer.

Greg was not an animal person.  He tolerated animals.  He would pat the dogs, hold a horse if I needed, and give them good care; but not loving care.   After living together with Greg and animals, I learned that animals were not his passion.  He liked animals, but he loved bicycles.   For Greg, living with me added a layer of complexity to his life.   A complexity that is not so endearing if you don’t share the same passion.   While Greg was not one to complain, I knew his tolerance for my rescue cappers was waning.   Showing up to the bike race with the donkey was not going to go over well.

I pulled into the parking lot at the Hyatt Hotel. The entire parking lot was filled with bike trailers and bicyclists.   I found a nice shaded area to park the trailer.  When the trailer stopped, Buddy must have thought we arrived someplace important so he brayed loudly to announce our arrival.  I was officially horrified as everyone in the parking lot stopped what they were doing and looked around curiously as to the origins of the strange noise.

I slithered out of the truck hoping no one would notice.  I opened up the windows of the trailer so Buddy could put his head out to watch the activity in the parking lot.  I gave him fresh water and hay then dashed off to meet Greg as his team crossed the finish line.

The team was ecstatic that they had won the race and the award ceremony proceeded.  As we headed back to the hotel, I wondered if NOW would be a good time to mention that I had a donkey in the trailer, but decided to wait until the morning.   Greg was exhausted and fell asleep immediately.  I rushed down to the trailer to check on Buddy. He was curled up in the straw looking very content.  As I stood waiting at the elevator, I heard someone say “Who brings a donkey to a bike race?”

The next morning at Starbucks, I told Greg about the donkey and my plan.  He was understandably not pleased but accommodating as always.  We packed up all the bikes and equipment and drove off to DC.

We were staying with my cousins just outside of DC.  They lived in one of those fancy neighborhoods with the fabulous mansion-like homes.  My plan was to park the trailer (and Buddy) in front of their home for the night.  By this time, Greg was so angry that he was anxious to “take the damn donkey and go home.”  I was of course walking on egg shells.

We arrived in the fancy neighborhood at my cousin’s fabulous home.  My cousin (Debbie) rushed out to say hello and was THRILLED to meet Buddy the donkey.   Debbie shares the ‘Crazy Carlene’ gene and therefore considers it normal for me to show up with a donkey for the weekend.        However, her neighbors thought it was strange to see Buddy’s head hanging contently out the window of the trailer as they walked by with their fluffy show dogs.  Soon the neighborhood children started to appear when they heard the rumor that there was a donkey nearby.  By late afternoon, a small crowd had come to visit the donkey.  Most had never met a real donkey and were so excited, they asked if I would let him out so they could see him up close.  One small girl jump up and down pleading or me to let him out so she could hug him.  I knew Buddy would like that hug too.

I unloaded Buddy.  He stood perfectly with the small girl wrapped around his head, and several other very excited young children surrounding him.  Buddy’s temperature was now normal and he was looking less lethargic.  I thought it might be good for him to stretch his legs, so I accept the offer from one father to take him for a walk.   Buddy was perfectly behaved.  What could go wrong right?  I watched as the father and small group of children walked slowly down the street with Buddy.

I started to get nervous an hour later when Buddy had not returned.   When I went back outside, I was immediately greeted by one of the small children.  She was slightly flustered. She said that Buddy had gone into someone’s backyard and lied down.

As I ran down the street following the little girl, my thoughts was “Oh Dear.  He probably is dying.  How will I ever get his body out of this neighborhood unnoticed?”

She was right.  Buddy had veered from the road into someone’s backyard and was lying dead center on the manicured lawn.  He was lying peacefully and was very much still alive!  What do I do next?  I thought.  I need to get him up and sneak him out of here before the owners of this home look out their back window.   After a quick assessment of the health of the donkey, I could tell he was not in distress or uncomfortable.  He appeared comfortable but definitely not interested in getting up.  We pulled and poked, but he just laid there eating bits of grass by his nose.  Stubborn, like only a donkey can be in an urgent situation.  I had experience this type of resistance before and know that if a donkey doesn’t want to get up or move forward, there is nothing you can do to make them.

Reluctantly, I walked to the front of the gigantic brick mansion and rang the bell.  A well-dressed woman opened the door.  She stood rather speechless as I explained that my donkey was lying in her backyard.  I apologized for the inconvenience and told her not to worry.  Not much else I could say, so I spun around and walked away.   Shortly after, the woman appeared with a tray of sandwiches, carrots and lemonade.  She arranged outdoor chairs in the backyard so everyone could have a seat.   AND there we sat, waiting for Buddy to decide to get up.    It was two hours later when Buddy suddenly jumped to his feet and did a brisk shake.  He was well rested and ready to get back on the trailer.

The next morning Buddy made the long trip to the SDP farm where he was welcomed by the other rescued donkeys, all who have their own unique stories like Buddy.

Order you SIGNED copy of the Holiday Edition of “Dogs, Donkeys and Circus Performers”