{I have asked Paco to write today's post. It's a good way to let him express himself and it gives you all a fresh view on life. Paco is our resident poet, and worrier, but he's very loved and no donkeys have been mismanaged to bring you this post.}
They keep telling me to come over.
"On that wood? It seems skinny. I am not skinny," I told them.
I was worried. I might float away on the skinny rivulet below.
They could hear my thoughts.
"Don't worry, Paco, it won't break or float away. We want you to come. There is so much to eat up here."
That was Pino. He is the star. He was the first donkey and he is a star. He has books and a pie day and he is a star. I am a normal donkey.
"Mother Matilda, are you going to go over it?" I asked her.
She just trotted by me and never even looked back. She does that. She is confidant. She shows me in action what to do, without words.
"Wait, you are leaving me here?" I asked them as they turned away.
And they did. They climbed the hill and left me in the pasture.
I will be brave. I will eat here today.
This isn't so bad.
Wait, I can see their ear tips up on the hill. I must call them so they know I am still here.
"I am still here!" and I brayed and brayed.
I see their ear tips again. They acknowledge me with their ears forward. But now their ears are relaxed, in bramble. They are not worried about me.
I was brave all day. The sheep came down and I took them to the barn. I protected them from possible hawks. You never know when a huge hawk is going to swoop out of the sky and pick up a 200# sheep. I worry about that. It could happen. So it is good I'm here for them.
