This is the story of Sleepy the Donkey. When I was a girl, I had an undying love and desire for horses. I had an imaginary horse named "Candy". Since she could be anything I wanted, being imaginary, she was actually a flying horse. My parents knew of this affection for horses of mine, but we were too poor to own a horse. When there are five children in the family and sundry dogs, (Dad raised beagles) you have more important things to spend money on than trying to keep a horse.
One day, Dad packed all of us into the car. We were "going for a drive". Out in the country, Dad pulled into a house near a railroad crossing. Someone lived here that Dad worked with, and he wanted to stop and talk for a few minutes. This was going to be cause for patience on the part of the rest of us. Little did I know what he had up his sleeve. He came back to the car with his friend leading a little donkey. He didn't seem so little at the time, really. But I have seen pictures since, and he was little. The friend explained that this was Sleepy the donkey.
Now, you must understand something. Our Dad was a rather stern and unaffectionate man when we were young kids. He was very quick to discipline us, if we were out of line, and you knew you did not sass or talk back to Dad. He never said "I love you" in words to us. But that day, my Dad was trying to show me that he had my desires in mind. Yes, the donkey was for all of us kids, but I always thought of him as more MINE than any of the others.
Sleepy was the most contrary animal. Dad's friend had explained they named him "Sleepy" because he had a trick of faking sleep when he did not want to be ridden. That wasn't his only trick. If we wanted to ride him, there were lots of tricks we had to watch out for. He kicked up both heels if you came near him with the bridle. You had to avoid walking behind him. He bit if you weren't watching. But we were all determined enough, we rode him!
One day, my brother, David, and I wanted to ride the donkey. We got him bridled, and we decided that, instead of riding him around the farm yard, we would let him out and ride on the driveway and maybe out in the (harvested) bean field. We always rode bare back, there was no saddle. My brother got on and I climbed up behind him. Sleepy took off. He would not be guided. He ran off to the back yard and was running toward the clothesline to run under it so he could wipe us off his back. But we were clever enough to duck. As soon as we both ducked down, Sleepy slammed on the brakes, and we went tumbling down his neck, over his head onto the ground. Mom was standing there and she got a laugh out of that, after she saw we were okay.
Another trick of Sleepy the donkey was to walk over to a fence or by the side of the barn and walk so close as to try to crush the rider's leg between the fence or barn and his body. I would always pull up the threatened appendage when he would do this. But of course, that put me off my balance if he decided to buck, which he did, sometimes. I was thrown from his back more than once.
Another day, I was out in the barnyard riding the donkey by myself. On bright, sunny days, it was just the thing to do for entertainment. On this particular farm, there was a loose piece of fence that served as a makeshift gate between the barnyard and the middle pasture. You could pull the fence across the opening and fasten it to the barn. That fence was shut, but the donkey had worked his way under it so many times that it was pretty easy for him to walk under it, when he didn't have a rider. He decided to go under it that day with the rider on. I was wiped off and fell WHUMP flat on my back. It knocked the wind out of me and I could not breathe. I started to panic because I couldn't breathe or make a sound, and I thought that I was going to die. I finally got a breath, and then I got mad at that donkey. I caught him and locked him in the barn for his crime!
There was many an episode of escape for the donkey. The fences on the farm we rented were fraught with holes and bad posts, and our donkey was a regular Houdini. One night he got out and went trotting around the neighborhood. My Dad got home from his second shift job, when one of the neighbors called to inform him that Sleepy was in his yard. There was another donkey and two ponies that lived the next farm down, and that was where Sleepy was visiting. Well, Dad went off to try to catch him. Several times he would get within reach of catching him and the donkey would spin and kick up his heels and take off.
The situation was serious. If the donkey ran out in traffic and someone hit him, Dad knew he would be liable. He reluctantly came back to the house and got his twelve-gauge shot gun and went donkey hunting. Very early the next morning I heard Mom and Dad in the kitchen talking quietly over coffee. Dad was telling Mom something about he "shot him several times" and "finally, he just gave up." I got up and went into the kitchen to ask what had happened, and Dad told me the whole story. When it became light, I went to the barn. My donkey had bullet holes all over. He had blood dripping from many wounds. I began the task of washing him and picking out buckshot. But, you know, that ornery donkey survived that episode. He wasn't really any worse for wear. The fences got patched. I think he never got out again after that.
One day a guy came by the house. He had been to our neighbor's and traded a pony for his donkey. He wanted to trade us a pony for a donkey, too. I don't know what he wanted with our old, contrary donkey. But a pony was a lot closer to looking like a horse, and the trade was made. That was the last I knew of "Sleepy the Donkey." Then began the adventures of "Fury the Pony". But I will save that for another day.
