There is a beautiful big pasture in our neighborhood. I wrote about it here in 2016 when it was for sale and we all were worried that new development would destroy this precious little corner.
Thankfully someone in the neighborhood stepped up and bought it, so that its rural character could be preserved. There was a big sigh of relief going through my neighborhood.
We all agree that our very best neighbor was living here.
No one knew what his real name was - he was just Donkey. Some kids called him Don Quixote which I think was very smart. Kaefer and I called him Donkers, and whenever you called him by whatever name, he came running down to the fence, expecting some nose rubs and, even more, some food.
Carrots might have been his favorite food. He loved them and never gobbled them down, but chewed them very carefully and thoughtfully.
He certainly didn't have the best teeth anymore, though.
He was owned by the people who live above the pasture. He was rescued from BLM land about 30 years ago and quickly became an integral part of our community. He loved us and we loved him back. My friend Matt lives right across from the pasture and says that Donkers made his demands for fresh carrots pretty clear when he saw Matt standing in his kitchen (which faces the meadow).
1 comment:
Awww. This is such a sweet (and a little sad) post. Vale Donkers.
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