The Irish donkey

When I think of my parents, my dad was always the one I attached to pets. But growing up, my dad never had any pets in the home. In some ways I think this came from the fact his mother grew up on a farm in Ireland, and she was not particularly found of some of her memories of the farm animals. In particular, the donkey.

I believe his name is Bernard. And I have heard there is a descendant of Bernard, still named Bernard, on the family farm today. Ireland is not particularly dry. And as my Nana's story of Bernard goes, his yard could have some muck and wet mud. One day she was asked to either let Bernard out, or to put him in. One way or the other, Nana was out in his yard in the muck area, and Bernard decide to step on her foot, smashing it into the muck, and then not moving. Being a donkey, he was a bit stubborn on the whole idea of moving, and continued to stand on her foot, keeping it in the muck.

Growing up I had two reactions to this story. One was sheer laughter at the idea of my Nana being stuck in the muck. This laughter was a contagious one. My dad always told the story with a chuckle, laughing at the event, and so, I thereby laughed with him. I am sure that when his mother heard the story, or even told it, she was not laughing. I cannot imagine my dear Nana laughing over being smushed into muck. She was always such a clean lady, and when I had to bring our dog with once to her house I remember her talking about how animals brought in dirt.

My other reaction was that I wanted a donkey. I have no idea how hearing of a stubborn donkey would lead to me wanting one, but it did. I still comment on how I have always wanted a donkey. In fact, I have attempted to employ my daughter in obtaining a donkey. Her favorite Disney character is Eeyore. In fact she has had an Eeyore plush doll for almost her entire life. When she met Eeyore at Disneyland, she had Eeyore in her hand. I have even said that if we did get a donkey we could name him Eeyore. As an adult as I have researched getting a donkey, I have come to find that they need companionship, so either another donkey or a bonded animal. Which means that maybe I can have an Eeyore and a Bernard of my own.

Something tells me that my dreams of a donkey will not come true. And I am not sure that my dear Nana would approve of me naming a donkey after one of her not great memories of her childhood chores. But Bernard has always been a story of donkey love for me.