Here is our neighbor’s donkey. I like to call him Marco, but that’s not really his name. The truth is that he doesn’t have a name, but I am so not okay with that. Marco was the name of the donkey of my youth, so I thought it was fitting that the donkey of Parker’s youth was of the same name. I know, I’m so creative.
Anyway, back to Marco the donkey. I took this photo right before I was headed down to the beach. Marco is usually much higher up on the hill than that, so I was thrilled to be taking his “close up.” After I snapped this initial shot, he looked away from me. In an effort to get his attention, I said, “Over here, Marco, over here!” And then Marco did something I did not anticipate. He started jogging over to me. Yikes!
Okay, so it shouldn’t really be a “yikes!” worthy moment. I mean, he’s a donkey. An old, mangy donkey. But I was not raised around anything larger than our family cat, Mellany, so a donkey trotting towards me was a bit frightening. So, I ran home. And then I laughed at myself. But I stayed in the house.
It reminded me of the time I went with my childhood best friend to visit her father in central Florida. He had thousands of acres of orange groves, a couple of dirt bikes and a couple of horses. I must have been about 14 at the time. One day, after tooling around the pastures on the dirt bikes (sorry mom), my friend asked if I wanted to ride horses. Well, I had never ridden before, but I was up for anything so I agreed.
She rode her mother’s horse, Cinnamon, and she let me ride her horse, Princess. Princess was a short, fat little thing who really just wanted to graze on grass all day, but my ignorant eyes regarded her as I would an unbroken stallion. I mean, compared to Mellany the cat, she was large. I still cringe at the way that I held on for dear life while she walked around the pasture, expecting her to buck or sprint at any given moment.
Hopefully, they’ll have riding lessons near our new home so I can cure myself of the “wary of large, docile animals” issue that I apparently have. Hopefully, Parker won’t give the farmers on the island quite the same show that I do every year when i steer clear of the sheep, goat and other harmless woodland creatures.