Like any sensitive creature, I've told Pino little of what the exact procedure will be on Thursday. I simply told him it would be all right, it would help him be comfortable in the long run.
"But aren't we going to write "left" and "right" on this feet, so the vet knows not to cut them off?" asked Paco, the resident worrier.
He has asked me this several times, after seeing it in some movie or 2020 episode where a surgeon accidentally cuts off a foot instead of an arm or something.
Just as before, I answered professionally and calmly-that is what helps Paco the most in his worry.
"I think the vet will recognize his feet, Paco. She will be working on his down unders."
"Hope her hands are steady," I heard the The Head Troll say as she stormed by on her way to the lower paddock.
"They are!" I yelled after her, wanting to keep Pino calm.
Donkeys are stoic creatures. But when I lead him to a different area, without his mates, I can hear Pino's little mind at work,
"Hmmm, some thing's up, something is definitely a comin' my way."
My job is to provide a setting for both vet and donkey that will help everything go smoothly.
As I walked away from the donks today I heard Paco say,
"It can't be any worse than when they de-berried you," reminding Pino of his castration some seen years ago.
Great, I thought, he had to bring that up. I witnessed the entire thing and it was quite the sight. Not for dinner talk. The worst part as the caretaker for me is watching a bigger animal try to come out of the sleeping anesthetic. They try so hard to get up and it takes some time for them to make it and stay up. They just are very vulnerable at that time and while it can be amusing to watch their clumsy maneuvers, you feel empathy for them.
As I left the paddock, I looked back to see little Pino sitting on the ground, writing something on his down under area. Paco was reciting the proper spelling,
"Don't cut here, please. Thank you."
