by Tracy Garton
‘Choose the biscuit, please choose the biscuit,’ I prayed under my breath.
He released the bikini and gulped the ginger snap down in one. My heart was in my mouth and my cheeks were burning with shame. For several awkward seconds no one said a word. Then Katie broke the ice.
‘Well, that nearly gave the dog walkers a surprise,’ she said, looking over at the other beachgoers wandering up and down in the sunshine.
She’d seen the funny side, thank goodness.
‘Don’t worry, I would have put the camera down, promise,’ the photographer joked. ‘Maybe we’ll just get some shots of Katie on her own now.’
He’d had enough of Alan’s antics, and I didn’t blame him. I was so embarrassed, and so was Lesley. We couldn’t even look at each other. Instead, we hovered awkwardly until we were given the go-ahead to head off home.
‘Thanks so much for that. He’s very photogenic,’ our booker said, waving us off.
‘You’re welcome,’ I replied, revving the engine and pulling away down the prom before anything else could go wrong.
I knew how close Alan had come to wrecking the whole thing. If he’d pulled Katie’s bikini off, it would have taken more than a ginger biscuit to tempt her back out of the beach hut.
‘Well, that was fun,’ said Lesley sarcastically.
Finally, out of view of the fashion team, we burst out laughing. Alan might be cute, but he was a total handful. Who’d have thought such a small donkey could cause so much trouble?
10
In Too Deep
It’s a cliché, but the good old British weather really is unpredictable. It certainly keeps us on our toes. One day we’re preparing for a scorching weekend packed with visitors, and the next we’re rushing donkeys into the stables in the pouring rain.
Thankfully, the summer of 2009 had been a warm one on the whole. For the most part, the donkeys spent the night happily in the fields instead of being cooped up in the stables. They prefer it, and I do too. It’s one less job, not having to bring them in at night then clean out the stables the next morning.
Then early one morning in July, I was woken up by a donkey’s cry shattering my dreams. I sat bolt upright in bed, and picked up my mobile to check the time. Quarter past five, not long until it was time to get up. The donkey’s cry came again and this time, being a bit more awake, I could tell it was Alan. I’d know that racket anywhere.
It roused Steve too.
‘He must be desperate for his breakfast, greedy bugger,’ he said, rolling over to catch a final fifteen-minute kip.
‘Hmm,’ I agreed. But at the back of my mind a little alarm bell was ringing. Sure, Alan was our noisiest donkey. And I wouldn’t put it past him to get us out of bed early just because he fancied a bit of attention. He was cheeky like that. Still, though, it was very out of character for him to be causing chaos this early in the morning just for the sake of it.
So, bleary-eyed, I trudged out of bed and cracked the curtain back a few inches. To my surprise, the ground was covered with puddles. It must have rained overnight – a lot.
If we’d known, we would have brought the donkeys in. Heavy rain certainly hadn’t been forecast. I religiously checked the local TV weather bulletin every single day.
As I was out of bed anyway, I decided to go down to check on the donkeys. If the fields were particularly soggy, it would be best to bring them into the stables to dry off before they got too muddy. So I quickly changed out of my PJs, pulled an old baseball cap over my hair, and headed out across the yard. Field by field, I checked on all the donkeys. First, I did a quick count to make sure they were all present and correct. Then I cast my eye over the ground to make sure it wasn’t too soggy. The last thing I wanted was the donkeys getting stuck in the mud. So far, so good.
Finally, I got to the Hooligans’ field.
‘One, two, three, four . . .’ I counted under my breath. But I was one short. Surely that couldn’t be right? I counted again, and realised with horror that my first count had been correct. One of the donkeys was missing. What’s more, Alan was loitering strangely down at the far end of the field. Usually he’d be straight up by the gate nuzzling at my hand for treats. In a heart-stopping moment I realised that something wasn’t right.
I was just about to go into the field to investigate when Steve came out to join me.
‘There was no way I was getting back to sleep after that racket,’ he said. ‘Everything okay?’
‘I don’t think so, Alan’s being really strange. And one of the donkeys is missing,’ I said, mentally doing a roll call in my head. ‘It’s Dona Pepa.’
Dona Pepa was one of our more exotic donkeys, as she’d come all the way from Spain. She was originally found by a German lady who lived out there and had a soft spot for donkeys. At twelve years old, Dona Pepa was no longer wanted by her owners for working on the farm, and she was set to be sold for salami. But the kind German lady was determined to rehome her. Somehow, after making desperate phone call after desperate phone call, she ended up in touch with me.
We’d never rescued a donkey from abroad before. But the woman’s last-gasp plea made me really want to help. Typically, Spanish people don’t have the same fondness for donkeys that we do here in the UK. It’s a culture thing. They are commonly slaughtered for meat, so people think of them more like cows or sheep. The woman was adamant she’d never find anyone to adopt this poor donkey in Spain, and we were her only hope.
Dona Pepa was special too. She was an Andalusian donkey, which is thought to be one of the oldest European breeds. Nowadays, they are incredibly rare. We had a chance to do our bit in promoting the breed, as well as saving another donkey from a sad ending. How could I refuse?
So, after a bit of research, I ended up scraping together £900 to have Dona Pepa transported here. That was back in 2007 and she settled so well that she thought she was in heaven. Then, when Alan arrived, they became firm friends. You could say that he fell for the larger lady. Andalusian donkeys are quite big in stature, and she certainly dwarfed my sweet little Alan.
It was no wonder that Alan had been acting strangely that morning. If something had happened to Dona Pepa, he wouldn’t be happy.
Steve and I dashed down to the end of the field where the cause of Alan’s distress was immediately obvious. Dona Pepa had slipped down into the dyke that ran along the bottom of the field. It was usually almost dry, but after the heavy rainfall the night before it had filled up with water. She was completely stuck, with her head only just poking out above the flood.
There was a look of panic in her eyes, but she wasn’t making a sound. I think she was in shock. I didn’t know whether she wasn’t moving because she couldn’t or because she didn’t know what to do.
Alan was pacing up and down next to her, making tentative steps to head down into the dyke to try to save her. It would have been a disaster. He’d have gone straight under. The only reason Dona Pepa was still alive was because she was so tall.
She could have been down there for hours. But the one thing I didn’t understand was how this had happened. The dyke had always been there but the donkeys usually completely ignored it. Then I caught sight of a clump of juicy-looking reeds on the opposite bank.
Suddenly it made sense. Her greedy appetite must have got the better of her, and she’d tried to lean across for a nibble. But with all the rain the bank was slippery and she had slid straight down into the water. Still, even if it had been her own fault, that didn’t make the situation any better. We needed to get her out, and fast.
My first reaction was bordering on hysteria. I didn’t know what to do. My donkey was drowning before my eyes. Thank goodness I had Steve there.
‘I’ll go and grab a head collar. You get the rest of the donkeys out of the way,’ he said confidently. ‘The last thing we need is another of them joining her down there.’
Alan fixed me with a firm stare, as if he was daring me to try to force him to abandon his friend.
Steve
dashed back towards the stables ahead of me, while I herded the rest of the donkeys into the next field. My hands were shaking as I unbolted the gate. Sickening worst-case scenarios kept playing through my mind. What if we can’t get Dona Pepa out in time and she drowns? What if it’s too late and the damage is already done?
With the rest of the donkeys safe, I turned to Alan.
‘Let us handle this. We’ll look after your friend,’ I said to him, pushing him back from the water’s edge. ‘Please, Alan, don’t make this difficult.’
I felt like he understood my desperation. Reluctantly he let me lead him into the next field to join the others. He didn’t want to leave Dona Pepa, but he knew that while he was taking up my attention I couldn’t look after her.
We needed help, and fast. I made a frantic call to Lesley from my mobile and asked her to come in early. There was no time to explain why. I hung up, knowing she’d understand and would rush over straight away.
Within five minutes Steve was back. He’d swapped into a pair of shorts, and I gasped as he immediately plunged down into the freezing dyke beside Dona Pepa.
‘Bloody hell, it’s muddy down here. I think her legs must be stuck,’ he said, slipping around.
He pulled the head collar over her head, and threw the rope up for me to grab. Then he reached down into the murky water to try to encourage her to release her legs from the grip of the sticky mud.
‘What do I do?’ I asked desperately.
‘Keep a good hold on the rope, and pull as hard as you can when I tell you to. She’s not going to get back up that bank easily,’ Steve said, panting as he struggled to get her legs loose.
Soon Lesley arrived too, and joined me in hefting on the rope. We tried and tried, but we couldn’t get Dona Pepa free enough to even put one hoof on the bank. It had been an hour, and she was still just as perilously close to drowning.
‘This isn’t working, we need to try something else,’ Steve said, absolutely exhausted. But he didn’t leave Dona Pepa’s side.
‘How about the fire brigade? I’m sure they have an animal rescue unit,’ Lesley said, holding her hand out for my mobile.
I had no idea whether they were the right people to call; we’d never been in that situation before. But it was worth a try. I’d have given anything a go. I gave Lesley the nod, and while she made the call I tried to soothe Dona Pepa.
‘They’re on their way. I’ll make sure the gate’s open,’ Lesley said, handing me back my phone. ‘Maybe we should have the vet on standby too?’
This was exactly why I couldn’t run the donkey sanctuary on my own. I was crumbling under the pressure of the awful situation, but thank goodness Steve and Lesley were there to tell me what to do.
It wasn’t long before a full crew of five firemen from Lincolnshire Fire and Rescue arrived in a fire engine, with our vet Norrie not far behind.
‘Looks like your donkey’s got herself into a bit of a pickle,’ the crew manager said, assessing the situation with a reassuring calmness.
‘Sorry to have to call you. We didn’t know what else to do,’ I said.
‘Don’t you worry. We deal with animal rescues all the time. We’ll have her out before you know it, just leave it to us.’
It wasn’t long before the whole crew was assembled with straps, winches and ropes. As soon as I saw all of their equipment I knew that calling them was the right thing to do. For the first time that morning my nerves calmed slightly.
Two of the firemen plunged into the dyke to fasten the harness around Dona Pepa’s shivering body. Meanwhile, Steve had a stroke of genius. Our old digger would be perfect to winch her up. Soaking wet, he dashed back to drive it over.
‘We’ll need blankets and anything else you’ve got to keep her warm,’ Norrie said, giving me a reassuring smile.
‘Of course. I’ll go and grab everything we’ve got,’ I said. I could tell she knew that I needed to do something useful before I lost it completely.
Lesley came back to the house with me, and we filled hot-water bottles and grabbed bundles of towels. By the time we got back down to the dyke the crew was almost ready to hoist Dona Pepa out.
I could barely watch as the digger creaked with the pressure of Dona Pepa’s weight. My heart was in my mouth. Dona Pepa’s situation was critical. The straps could snap or our rickety old digger could seize up. If this didn’t work, we didn’t have a backup.
Slowly, inch by inch, she was lifted clear of the dyke and gently grounded back in the field. She barely twitched a muscle, and slumped onto the ground. I rushed forwards with Lesley and we held the hot-water bottles onto her shivering body, before smothering her with towels.
‘Come on, you’re safe now,’ I said to her, willing her to hang on. She was out of the dyke, but I knew she wasn’t out of the woods yet.
Norrie gave Dona Pepa a special steroid injection, while I rubbed the towels over her to generate heat. She looked up at me and I could tell she was absolutely spent. The ordeal had completely exhausted her.
‘I know, I know,’ I soothed her. ‘We’ll have you feeling better soon, though.’ In truth, I was telling myself that.
‘When you’re ready, we’ll help to get her back on her feet,’ the fire crew manager said. ‘We’re not going anywhere.’
Eventually, after half an hour, Dona Pepa had stopped shivering and I decided it would be best to get her back to the stables if we could. Norrie agreed so I gave the fireman the go-ahead.
‘Come on then, boys, on my count. Three, two, one . . .’ he said, and they all got their hands under her and heaved.
Foot by foot, Dona Pepa lifted herself up, swaying slightly. The fire crew carried on supporting her weight until we were sure she could stand. I covered her back with a dry blanket, then took the rope to lead her across the field.
‘We just need to get back to the stable, then you’re done,’ I said to her encouragingly.
To my relief, she took a faltering step forwards, followed by another. She was flanked by two burly firemen the whole way, supporting her weight.
I kept everything crossed that she’d make it. If she collapsed again, I didn’t know what we’d do. She swayed and shivered with the effort but she bravely kept putting one foot in front of the other. We passed the field where Alan and the rest of the Hooligans were. Alan was sticking his head over the fence, whinnying gently to Dona Pepa in support.
‘Don’t worry, she’s safe,’ I said to him.
It seemed to take forever but eventually we made it.
‘Well done. Now you can rest,’ I said, snuggling her up in the warmth with yet more blankets.
‘I think you got her out just in the nick of time,’ Norrie said. ‘She’ll need a close eye kept on her, but I know you’ll do that anyway. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on her, but call me if you need anything before that.’
We closed the stable door behind us and left her to get some sleep.
The firemen were packing their equipment back into the engine, and I went over to say thank you.
‘I don’t know what we would have done without you, thank you doesn’t seem enough,’ I gushed.
‘It’s no problem at all. These things happen,’ the crew manager said.
‘So, how much do I owe you? Do you send a bill or do you need the money now?’ I asked. I was hoping it wouldn’t be too pricey. With the vet bill on top, Dona Pepa’s adventure would cost us dearly.
He cracked a grin as if I’d just told the best joke in the world.
‘Oh, it’s free,’ he said, realising I was serious. ‘You don’t owe us a penny.’
‘Are you sure? You’re not just saying that?’ I couldn’t believe that they’d gone to all that trouble and I didn’t even need to pay them for it.
‘Of course not, all part of the service,’ he said.
‘Well, in that case you’d better come in for a bacon butty. It’s the least I can do to say thanks.’
At the mention of a bacon bap the other lads turned towards their
boss with a hopeful look on their faces.
‘Well, I suppose we could. If we get another call-out, we’ll have to dash off, but in the meantime a bit of grub wouldn’t hurt,’ he said.
So we all dried off before tucking into a roll. I couldn’t credit the fire crew enough. They were lovely guys, and without them I don’t know what we would have done. Soon we were all laughing away as I told them about some of our other close scrapes. They roared at my escaping donkeys and false alarms.
‘I didn’t know donkeys could be so much trouble,’ one of the firemen laughed.
If only they knew the half of it. Eventually, they said their goodbyes and I headed back to check on Dona Pepa again. To my relief, she was looking perkier already.
‘You silly creature,’ I said, chiding her gently. ‘If you hadn’t been so greedy, that wouldn’t have happened, you know? You should have just waited for your breakfast.’
Of course she didn’t have much to say for herself in return. But if she could talk, I like to think that she would have said muchas gracias.
It wasn’t just us and the fire crew she owed a thank you to. She owed the biggest thank you of all to her friend Alan. It was only down to him getting us out of bed that we found her when we did. I never expected his noisy Eeyore bray to be so useful. But it was. He’d saved her life.
The next day Norrie gave Dona Pepa a clean bill of health and soon she was reunited with Alan. If anything, the ordeal made their bond closer than ever. He followed her around the field for weeks. She’d learned her lesson, though, and curbed her appetite. There was no way she was going near that dyke again.
I wrote the fire service a letter to say thank you again, although I could never put into words how grateful I was. To them, Dona Pepa might just have been a donkey, but to me she was my friend.
Unfortunately, Dona Pepa wasn’t the only animal to have a close call that summer. Unlike most of the birds I’d found myself caring for, Geraldine the chicken hadn’t actually been dumped with us. Fate brought us together in an even stranger way. I was driving back from Tesco one evening, with a boot full of shopping, when she wandered out into the middle of the road. I slammed my brakes on, stopping just in time to avoid hitting her.