“There’s a Donkey?”

“Is Sam here yet?” quizzes Annie’s boss. “I’m not sure. Why am I looking for Sam?” Annie returns. “Because he has Bear. I don’t want to use the lambs tonight, but I do want to use Bear.” “Bear?” “Yes, Bear. Bear the donkey.” “Oh – you want ME to go get the donkey, sir?” “Yes, go get him and have him ready for the next scene.” (Annie mind glimpse, “……………………….”.) We now join Annie, AKA, Super Secretary, as she dashes around the building in a made rush to discover the whereabouts of this mysterious Mr. Sam and his donkey, Bear.


Rushing toward the lobby, someone emerges from the shadows. Could it be the covert …Mr. Sam? “I understand I am supposed to obtain possession of a donkey from you, sir. Is this correct?” “Yes, he is outside. If you will follow me, I will instruct you on how to care for Bear.” Annie proceeds with Mr. Sam to a horse trailer where they are joined by Mrs. Sam (who knows a lot about horses & stuff, thank God). (Ok – I can’t write the rest of this story in super hero fashion just because it’s a donkey, for goodness sakes, and it involves lots of OMG moments for me! Excuse me as I transition into just Plane Jane Annie for a moment…)

OK – out of my costume and ready to just tell it like it happened, folks. You won’t believe…well, I’ll just tell it.

Alright, so I follow this guy who is responsible for transporting the donkey (a borrowed donkey) from his pasture to the building every night for the next week. We have dress rehearsals for the next 3 days followed by 3 nights of performances (that’s 6 straight days of sheep, lambs, and donkey, guys!). “Sam”, his wife, and I are standing behind this horse trailer discussing the craziness of this mission when they open it to reveal a pretty “fluffy” looking donkey (and by “fluffy” I don’t mean cute and furry - just picture with me a donkey that looks more like a small horse than the typical big-eared, short, thin, little donkey that you see in most pastures or pictures – yeah – I’m assuming that you’ve all seen plenty of pictures or have been around lots of donkeys – and you know what assuming gets you, but this guy was more like a mule). I am shown how to untie him, lead him out of the trailer, and how to tie him back up with a “jerk” knot or some kind of "quick release knot". As I am being taught this tying technique (and please understand that Lady Lily here has only been on a horse like two or three times and NEVER has she EVER had to tie ANY kind of knot or “hitch” anything securely aside from her shoes or other articles of clothing (and those get “hitched” pretty darn securely). So here I am in the middle of my impromptu rope tying lesson when this old coot of a critter decides he wants to push me – that’s right! PUSH ME! And he HUFFED doing it! ‘Scuse me? (In my best valley girl accent.)

“Bear! What is your problem?!” Sam’s wife yelled. That’s when I confirmed that it wasn’t just me – she saw it, yeah! She saw it too! Alright you! (I could’ve called him by his true biblical name here, but it would have been more like a swear and I try my best not to do that, so I didn’t and won’t here. You can imagine the Annie mind glimpse.) I just pushed him back – that’s right! Now, normally, I would be a little more cautious when altercating with any animal – especially one that outweighs me by such a great ratio (we won’t get into precise comparisons!), but I thought, “I gotta work with you solo all week, bub! And I think I remember someone telling me that you had to show you animals who’s boss. So you better WATCH IT!” Not real sure that this philosophy is an exact bit of sage wisdom – but it was like a Jedi thing – it just popped into my head so I went with it – it worked at the time, so I followed the “inner voice”.

Lesson concluded, we led Bear out of the trailer and onto the sidewalk where I was to hold him until his “scene”. I had been told to walk him around A LOT so that “his bowels will move” and he will be less LIKELY to leave mementos on the carpet as he takes Jesus down the isle, drops Jesus off, then heads back up the next isle to exit. Walk donkey…I can do this, no pressure. As if that wasn’t enough, it dawns on me that I have been left alone with this donkey and, even though I have the full program written down on paper in my pocket, I CAN’T HEAR OUTSIDE WHAT SCENE IS BEING PERFORMED ON THE INSIDE!!! I HAVE NO CUE!! WHERE’S MY CUE? WHEN DOES JESUS NEED THE DONKEY?! NO ONE TOLD ME WHERE THE CRAZY DONKEY WAS TO COME IN FOR HIS SCENE! It’s like being responsible for the most awesome rock band headlining a major event and no one tells you where or when they are to go on – do you know the pressure – you’ve all been there, right?! I guess I am supposed to follow that little “voice” again?

So here I am holding the blessed donkey in the middle of the city in a parking lot that just happens to have a nice landscaping of grass (with a couple of weeds interspersed – this plays a part later), waiting for my mystic “cue” when I realize that I’m being overwhelmingly pulled in the direction of the nice green landscaping. Humm…I wonder what donkeys eat? WELL, IT TURNS OUT THEY MUST LIKE GRASS & WEEDS (I guess Bear decided to follow HIS inner voice – “Hey! Food!”). Crud! (Deep sigh.) Then I remember the voice – “Oh no you’re not! Get OUT of this grass. COME! ON!” (Yeah, you can go ahead and envision, but even I can’t imagine what I must have looked like standing there pulling this 300 + pound animal!)

“You. Will. Come. On.” Finally, I look helplessly toward the door and see a face peering out like, “Are you coming?” Apparently, this was my cue. Genius. So I head toward the door. Notice I said, I I I I head toward the door. I guess the divo of a donkey (or whatever you call the male equivalent of a diva) decided he was ready for his close up, Mr. Deville, so he followed me. We managed to get him through the door and into the lobby…where he decided to leave us a little calling card. Yep…it happened. I’ve had better relationships with animals, people. After a couple of on-lookers freaked out and a quick inquisition was held to find a broom, etc., I was finally handed a broom, a dust pan, a spray bottle of carpet cleaner, a carpet brush, and a towel. Yes, it took all of those – for not only had my new friend “left a little” in the lobby, he decided (I’m convinced this was a cold and calculated move on his part) to step in it and spread the love onto the carpet (thankfully – a divine intervention, I’m also convinced – held him to only two “hooves” worth). Thanks, Bear – just had to, huh? That grass may have been a plotted move on your part, but it will take more than a little shove and some poop to beat this super secretary down. Poop will not be your kryptonite today, sir. LOAD UP!!! And NO VANILLA WAFFERS FOR YOU!!! (Not sure if that’s the universal bribe for donkeys, but this big guy melts like butter for them. Too bad - he didn’t deserve any that night! Harsh, you may say. No, remember the inner voice – it is leading me at this point and it says, “No vanillie waffies for you, Jack.")

The story doesn’t end there – but my blog entry does. Join me tomorrow for our conclusion when you hear me ask, “I was just brushing him, why?”