Alan the Christmas Donkey

by Tracy Garton

  On a day-to-day basis, I found it easy to get bogged down with rude visitors and a never-ending list of things to do. I honestly believed that people visited the sanctuary because it was free, not because they were particularly interested in what we do. It was something to keep the kids quiet for an afternoon. Then, after tearing around the place causing havoc, they’d go home and leave us a snooty review on TripAdvisor about the fact we don’t have a kids’ play area. Well, of course we don’t, we’re a donkey sanctuary. We spend our money on the donkeys.

  But as the cards kept flooding in, I started to feel appreciated. Sure, most of the cards were for the donkeys, not for me. Still, the fact that people had taken the time to write at all made me feel humbled.

  A couple of days later, it was one week until the day of the dreaded party. So much for everyone promising to help out with the organising. I felt like I’d been running around like a headless chicken. I’d ordered in mountains of food and drink, drawn up a precise rota to get the sanctuary looking tip-top in time, and spent hours stressing myself out by worrying about whether people would enjoy themselves. Plus, in the meantime, all the usual daily jobs had to get done.

  Mucking out the stables was the first thing that needed to be sorted. So I joined that day’s band of willing volunteers to get stuck in. Much to everyone else’s amusement, one of the girls had turned up wearing a festive headband with big fuzzy antlers attached at the top. I rolled my eyes. It would be a miracle if that was still in one piece by the end of the day.

  I sent her over to grab a water bucket standing next to the gate that led into the field where the donkeys were, while I grabbed the brooms from the tack room. Then I heard a yelp of surprise.

  ‘Give that back,’ she squealed. I turned around in time to see her tugging her daft headband back from the jaws of one of my donkeys. Surprise surprise, it was Alan who was the culprit.

  He’d seen the antlers wobbling around on her head as she bent down, and decided that she obviously wanted to play. He’d popped his head through the bars of the gate and chewed the antlers straight from her head.

  I couldn’t help laughing as I went over to give her a hand. I’d known those antlers wouldn’t last.

  ‘Look, he just wants to wear them. He thinks he’s a reindeer,’ I said, giving Alan a stern look so he released the headband. Then I popped it over his head.

  By now, all the other volunteers had stopped what they were doing and come over to see what the hilarity was all about. There was a roar of laughter as I stepped back to let Alan flaunt his new look.

  The antlers bobbed about on his head, and he looked up at me as if to say, I look really cute, don’t I? He was right too, he did look cute. On cue, he shook his head from side to side, jangling the little bells at the base of the antlers. We all fell about laughing again.

  Eventually, after Alan had enjoyed his moment, I pulled the antlers back to the right side of the gate. He looked really disappointed. But at the back of my mind, an idea was forming. It was a Christmas idea too.

  ‘Where did you get those?’ I asked the girl with the antlers.

  ‘Oh, these were from the supermarket,’ she laughed. ‘Why, do you fancy some for yourself now?’

  Not me, no. But I knew a donkey who did.

  ‘No reason,’ I said. I wasn’t going to let everyone in on my little plan just yet. They wouldn’t have taken me seriously anyway. I was too much of a Scrooge. Tracy catching the Christmas bug? Never.

  ‘Lesley, you get the gates and make sure there’s someone looking after the parking down there. Steve, you’re on drinks. Everyone else, you know what you’re doing. Apparently, it’s time to have a party,’ I said, manically pointing everyone to their posts.

  The night had arrived and, whether I liked it or not, we were celebrating Christmas. I’d never admit it to Lesley and Steve, but the idea had actually grown on me. Opening those Christmas cards was just the start of it. By the time I popped those antlers on Alan, I was almost feeling festive. I couldn’t believe what had happened to me. I’d caught ‘tinselitis’. That’s the only explanation for the secret plan I had up my sleeve.

  It started with that vision of Alan dressed up as a reindeer. I thought it would be a great surprise for the children to turn up and find that my donkeys had been swapped for something more festive. So I’d signed into eBay to have a look for some more antlers. I popped them into my virtual shopping basket, and I was about to shell out for extortionate express delivery when something else down at the bottom of the page caught my eye.

  It was a model, dressed up from head to toe in a daft elf outfit. It looked ridiculous. She was wearing red and white striped tights, a gaudy green and red tunic dress, and a silly elf hat. Instead of scoffing at the stupidity and clicking off the website, the Christmas bug whispered in my mind.

  Wouldn’t it be funny if I turned up at the party dressed as an elf? No one would believe it. That would show them I could have fun too. Should I do it?

  In a festive trance, I added the outfit to my shopping basket and before I could talk myself out of it I was typing in my card details. The spirit of Christmas took over, and I clicked to complete the transaction. It was too late to have second thoughts. It was done.

  I decided not to tell anyone what I was planning. Even Steve was kept in the dark. When the postman arrived I stashed the package away in the office so he wouldn’t find it. It was still there now.

  Down at the bottom of the drive, cars started pulling in and parking up. I turned around and gave the local brass band the nod to start playing. If I was going to host a Christmas party, I was going to give it a bit of a wow factor. The band were delighted to be invited, and had come ready with a full set list of carols and Christmas songs. Then, as the familiar sounds of ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ rang out across the yard, it was time for me to get ready.

  ‘Say hello to people, I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ I said to Steve, dashing off before he could question why.

  I grabbed the package from the office and upstairs in the bedroom I ripped it open. Out tumbled my outfit for the night, just as I’d ordered it.

  ‘Right, let’s do this,’ I said, pushing my feet through the unattractive tights.

  I pulled the tunic over my head then ran a brush through my hair before yanking the pointy hat down on top. I looked at myself in the mirror and burst out laughing. I looked absolutely ludicrous.

  I could hear the crowds gathering outside, but there was just time for the final touch. I grabbed a tube of red lipstick from my pitiful make-up collection, and swirled two red circles for rosy cheeks. Time to face the music – literally.

  As soon as I stepped back out into the yard, laughter started to ripple through the crowd as people caught sight of me. I saw Lesley do a double take, a confused look on her face before she twigged it was me.

  ‘I’m speechless. Is that really you?’ she said, coming straight over to see for herself.

  ‘Erm, yes, I thought it would be funny,’ I said.

  ‘Well, it is. But you hate Christmas,’ she said, still confused.

  ‘Don’t tell anyone but it’s beginning to grow on me,’ I replied, as I took in the atmosphere. Hundreds of people had turned up, and already everyone was laughing and chatting, having a great time.

  Over in the stables Alan and a couple of his pals were jazzed up with the reindeer antlers. Just as I expected, the children loved it. Alan couldn’t get enough of the attention. The barbecue had been fired up and the brass band was the icing on the cake.

  I mingled with the crowds, wishing a very happy Christmas to all the sanctuary’s local supporters. The number of compliments I received on my outfit was astonishing. You’d have thought I was wearing a designer frock, not some tat from eBay. People loved the effort I’d gone to.

  After a while, I checked my watch. It was almost time for the second surprise of the night. We were welcoming a very special guest, straight from the North Pole. Well, kind of. Ross had agreed to dr
ess up as Santa and I thought it would be fun for him to make a bit of an entrance.

  I headed into the far stable, where Ross was getting ready.

  ‘All set?’ I asked. He certainly looked the part. He’s a big guy and he filled out the Santa suit to perfection. Once he’d popped the beard on you wouldn’t have known it was him.

  ‘I’ve been practising my “ho ho ho”,’ he joked.

  ‘Great. I’ll just check on your escorts,’ I said.

  Santa couldn’t turn up on his own. He needed some reindeer. Unfortunately the party’s special effects budget didn’t stretch as far as a proper sleigh. But Alan and his friend Teddy would definitely help with the wow factor.

  In the next stable Lesley had fastened Teddy and Alan into festive red head collars. They were ready to go too.

  ‘Right, Alan, you just behave yourself. Remember this was all your idea,’ I said, giving him his orders. If he hadn’t been pratting around with that reindeer headband, I would never have had the inspiration.

  Alan looked up at me as if to say, Trouble? Me? There was no time for a rethink. This was Alan’s moment, whether he was ready for it or not. So I took the ropes, handed them over to Ross, and gathered the crowds ready.

  ‘Please welcome tonight’s special guest. He’s very busy this time of year, but he’s made a special trip just for us. It’s Father Christmas,’ I shouted, as Ross made his way around the corner.

  Teddy was on one side and Alan was on the other. They looked an absolute picture. The trio started making their way over towards the makeshift Santa’s grotto, as the littlest children screamed with excitement.

  But after just a few steps, I could see there was going to be a problem. A great big donkey-sized problem. I saw Alan catch sight of a bloke munching on a juicy burger, while his kids stood in front waving at Santa. His attention wavered, and then he stopped dead in his tracks.

  ‘Oh bugger. Please, Alan. Don’t do this,’ I muttered under my breath.

  Ross looked over to me desperately. He was tugging on the rope trying to get Alan to follow behind. Meanwhile, Teddy was completely focussed on the job at hand. He was a reindeer, and nothing was going to distract him.

  Then Alan decided that rather than being a good boy and doing his job too, he’d prefer a bite of that burger. Ross couldn’t do anything to stop him, as he headed off in completely the wrong direction. The crowd laughed nervously, while the bloke with the burger was completely oblivious to the fact that he was at the heart of the technical hitch.

  I looked around for backup, panic rising. As usual, my right-hand woman Lesley was there when I needed her.

  ‘Here, give him this,’ she said, rummaging around in her coat pocket and producing a very stale ginger biscuit.

  ‘This way, Alan, it’s time Santa got to the grotto,’ I said, leaping forward and waving the biscuit in front of his nose.

  His nostrils twitched, and his eyes followed the path of the horrible limp cookie. He might have fancied sharing a burger for tea, but I knew that with donkeys a ginger biscuit would win any day.

  I stepped backwards towards the grotto, and Ross gave Alan a subtle nudge forward with his leg. Then a collective sigh of relief rang out as Alan started plodding forwards again.

  ‘That was close,’ Ross whispered to me as he passed.

  ‘You’re telling me,’ I said. ‘Let’s give out some of these presents before anything else goes wrong.’

  Ross settled himself on a chair in the little grotto, with Alan and Teddy still by his side. I passed Alan the ginger biscuit to munch down. I hoped it would be enough of an incentive for him to behave.

  A queue of children snaked through the yard to see Santa. One by one, they whispered to Ross what was on their Christmas lists while the parents snapped a photo as a memento. I was gasping for a mulled wine to take the edge off the stress, but I didn’t dare leave Alan just yet.

  The first ten or fifteen children passed through the grotto with no problems. Alan minded his own business and Ross promised to make their Christmas wishes come true. The party was back on track.

  But just as I was thinking it might be safe for me to retreat for some adult company, Christmas took a nosedive again.

  Ross had just leaned down to ask a little blonde girl what she was hoping to find under the tree when Alan decided that eating only one measly ginger biscuit had left him a bit peckish. No burgers in sight, he picked the next best thing to satisfy his appetite. That just happened to be Ross’s fake white fluffy beard.

  He swooped his head forward and grabbed the fluff between his front teeth. Ross immediately whipped his hands up to hold on to it. The mum, seeing the trouble unfold, dashed up and grabbed her little girl, shielding her eyes from the uncovering of Santa. It was chaos. Just as he had with the model’s bikini in Sutton-on-Sea, Alan decided that it was the perfect time for a game of tug of war. Ross, with the loop of elastic still around his head, tugged back.

  ‘No, Alan, no!’ I shouted, grabbing hold of the beard too. Together Ross and I gave it a big yank and Ross nearly fell backwards off his chair as Alan released it from his jaws.

  ‘Stable, now,’ I hissed at Ross, seeing the state the beard was in. ‘Cover your face so the children don’t see.’

  He hustled off to fix his disguise, leaving me to deal with Alan.

  ‘I’ve had enough of you,’ I said. ‘I gave you a special job because I thought you deserved it, but you’ve blown it. You’re out of the grotto, come on.’

  I pulled him back out into the crowds, where he couldn’t do any more damage to Ross’s beard. Kids were still queuing to get in and the parents were looking at me expectantly. It was time to improvise.

  ‘Santa’s just having a quick break. Why don’t we sing some carols to welcome him back?’ I suggested, catching the eye of the brass band conductor.

  He gave me the nod, and led the band in a soothing rendition of ‘Silent Night’. The crowd started to sing along and, slowly, my heart rate returned to somewhere close to normal. Ross would put his beard on, I’d get Alan out of the way, and everything would be fine.

  Then, just as the band launched into the second verse of the carol, an almighty bray drowned out the music. The children covered their ears in distress, and the adults winced at the racket. I didn’t even need to look down beside me to see what was going on. It was Alan, again. This time, he fancied a singalong. But with a voice like that he’d leave us all deaf.

  I turned my head to catch his eye with a steely glare, just in time to see him snaffle a mince pie straight out of an unsuspecting boy’s hand. Alan sprayed crumbs everywhere, as tears welled in the kid’s eyes.

  ‘He stole my pie,’ the child said, pointing at Alan accusingly. Then he burst into noisy, snotty tears.

  Enough was enough. Alan had ruined my party. He’d wrecked Santa’s grand entrance, before nearly disastrously revealing that Santa wasn’t even real. He’d shattered everyone’s ears by trying to join in the singalong, before leaving children in tears with his greedy appetite. I completely regretted involving Alan in the first place. I should have left him in the yard with the other donkeys.

  I pulled him out of the crowd and, my blood boiling, handed him over to Steve.

  ‘Keep him out of my sight. That bloody donkey is a nightmare.’ I stormed off to finally get myself a much-needed mulled wine – or four. The party had been a disaster, and it was all Alan’s fault.

  An hour later, I’d finally simmered down enough to relax. Dare I say it, I was actually having a good time, as long as no one mentioned the D-word to me. Donkey. There’s that saying that you should never work with children or animals. That evening had certainly proved it to be true.

  ‘We’re just about to leave but I wanted to thank you for having us before we do,’ a woman said, approaching me from the crowd.

  I didn’t really recognise her, or the small boy in wellies trailing behind her. She must have been a guest from the village.

  ‘Oh, you’re welcome. I
t was nothing really. Did you have fun?’ I asked.

  ‘Definitely. My son loved the donkeys. It’s made his Christmas. We’ll be back for a proper visit when you’re open again,’ she said, smiling at her son who’d wandered off a few metres behind me.

  I heard a childish giggle behind my back, and a snuffly growling noise too. I turned around to see Alan nudging at the boy with his head as he stroked him. Trust Alan to be loitering around still. The evening was drawing to a close, so I told myself that he couldn’t cause much more trouble.

  ‘Oh, he’s made a friend,’ the mum laughed. ‘He loves animals more than people. It’s a shame he didn’t get to see Santa earlier, but he was feeling a bit shy.’

  Then the giggling came again. Alan pushed the boy forwards a couple of steps towards his mum. The boy tugged on her sleeve, and gestured for her to bend down so he could whisper something to her.

  ‘I think I want to see Santa now,’ I heard him say.

  ‘Oh, well, I’ll have to ask this lady if Santa’s still here. He might have had to get back to the North Pole,’ the mum said, giving me a knowing look.

  ‘I’m sure Santa’s still here somewhere,’ I said, looking around for Ross. ‘Let me see if I can catch him before he has to go.’

  Then the little boy tugged on his mum’s sleeve again.

  ‘He says he’d feel happier seeing Santa if your donkey can come with him,’ she laughed.

  Alan looked up at me as if to say, Well, can I? He knew very well he’d been banned from the grotto for his bad behaviour but how could I say no?

  ‘Go on then,’ I said, resigned. ‘I’ll go and find Santa.’

  Ten minutes later Ross had pulled the itchy beard back on, and was waiting ready in the grotto. The little boy sidled up to him, with Alan close behind. I could have sworn Alan gave him a nod, as if to say it was okay to go ahead.