Three-Legged Pete

Donkeys will be donkeys. And when they hurt they're cattle dogs.

What I mean is...donkeys are a stoic bunch, like cattle dogs. So when they hurt they don't tell you until it's really ouchy. And you say (like to a small child), "Why didn't you TELL me you hurt?"

They look at you with those big brown, liquid eyes. How can you scold them at a time like that?



Pete started going almost 3-legged Saturday afternoon. I put a perfectly sound, 4-legged Pete in the corral at 6:30 a.m. Came home at 2:30 p.m. to a limping Pete.

I mixed his anti-inflammatory medicine with applesauce and squirted it into his mouth. "Oh YUM," he said. "May I have more?" Every twelve hours buddy.

Dr. Bob said to do an Epsom salts soak twice a day or a poultice. We started soaking but changed over to the poultice. It's quite the project and requires: a donkey, two people, a spatula and some ichthammol ointment (say that three times real fast!), Vetrap, patience, scissors, sheet cotton, more patience and the mother-of-all-sticky-stuff, duct tape.








We're keeping our fingers and toes crossed the abscess shows it's ugly self soon and Pete can start being just a donkey again. (Besides, cattle dogs don't have the cool ears donkeys do.)

The room service hasn't been too shabby though. You shout your order.



And dinner is served!