Little Donkey

Today, instead of a Monday Portrait, I offer you a Monday Anecdote, first told on November 26th, 2011. It dates back to the days when we lived in Laroque d’Olmes in the French Pyrenees.

Little Donkey: An Everyday Story of Country Folk

Every now and then, in among all the banns of marriage and planning notices on the information board at the town hall here in Laroque, there’s a poster about a stray dog that’s been found.  Not cats or hamsters. Just dogs.

Last week, though, my eye was caught by this:

How does anyone lose a donkey?  And what do you do with it whilst you put out an appeal for the owner?  ‘Oh he’s fine’, said Thierry, our Community Copper, ‘We’ve put him to work in the office at the Mairie’.  I decided against saying the obvious, that he would be bound to be doing a far better job than the current Mayor.

It took a week for his owner to show up.  He – the donkey that is – had an exciting time.  First of all he was rounded up by the three blokes who first spotted him in the road just outside town, but who had no idea how to set about the job.  Then he was frisked for tattoos or identity chips.  None.  Next he was sent to stay with our friend Henri’s donkeys (Thierry was fibbing about the office work).  That had to stop when Henri’s female donkey got all excited at the new arrival and came on heat.  Then he went to stay with the vet’s partner.  He escaped.  Amateur detectives all over Laroque and Lavelanet tried to find out where he came from.  Eventually, after a week, his owner showed up, really rather cross.  ‘Why didn’t anyone think to get in touch with me?’

There we are.  That’s our excitement for November over.

Unaccountably, I have no donkey photos. These are from Unsplash.

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Author: margaret21

I'm retired and live in North Yorkshire, where I walk , write, volunteer and travel as often as I can.

39 thoughts on “Little Donkey”

  3. Great story, Margaret, and not the kind of ‘Lost and Found’ poster one comes across every day! I have lost and found many things in my life, but a donkey… no. Obviously, I haven’t lived quite as full a life as I thought!

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  5. He had quite a tail to tell when he was finally home (sorry!). I have fond childhod memories of a horse and donkey that regularly went walkabout in our village. We lived on the outskirts and they’d both call at our gate.

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