I really shouldn’t be telling you about this. It’s probably top secret--But since it’s probably some other government’s secret, I guess it will be OK.
You know where the Donkey Hotel* is? That place where old donkeys go to eat grass and live out their retirement years in peace? That’s where it started, almost a month ago. Bob Livingston* was taking the donkeys out to pasture that Sunday morning, when a black limo appeared, a black horse trailer in tow. I say ‘appeared’ because Bob didn’t hear it drive up. He was forking hay or something, looked down for a while, and when he looked up, there it was.
The trailer had some sort of gold emblem on the front. Bob couldn’t quite make it out, and was squinting at it when he noticed three men in dark suits and sunglasses, standing a couple of meters away from him. How they got there without him noticing, he couldn’t say, but there they were, just looking at him with their hands folded in front of them.
After a long silence, one of them took a step forward. “Mr. Livingston?”
“It is so,” he said. “The Donkey Hotel is closed today, but you can come back on Monday if you like.”
“That won’t be necessary,” continued the dark-suited man. “I represent the Government of the United States, and we are here on a matter of urgency, and extreme delicacy.”
Bob raised his eyebrows, and Old Solomon, the donkey he was leading, brayed in apprehension. Bob looked again at the black horse trailer. He finally recognized that the emblem on the front was the US Presidential seal. He looked back at the man in black, obviously some sort of government agent.
“The US Government, eh?” Bob queried. “This is a retirement home for donkeys– What could the US Government want with us?”
“Let me explain.” The government agent spread his hands, then dropped them to his sides. “I’ll get right to the point. The President has suffered... a peculiar sort of stroke. He can no longer understand human speech, so his advisors can no longer tell him what to say in public.”
Bob’s mouth dropped open. Then he closed it. “Advisors? People tell him what to say, eh? Well they aren’t doing a very good job, are they? Everything he says lately is nonsense! What does all this have to do with me?”
The government man shook his head. “It’s nothing to do with you,” he continued. “It’s your donkeys.”
“My...donkeys?”
“Yes.” The man in black took a breath, and continued. “You see, while the President can no longer understand human speech, he appears to understand donkeys.” The agent licked his lips and continued. “Our intelligence services have determined that the donkeys you have here at the Donkey Hotel are the most intelligent donkeys in North America. So we came here today to see if you would allow one of your donkeys to take up residence at the White House for the President’s use.”
“So... the US President only understands donkeys?” Bob seemed to be wondering if this was all some sort of joke.
“It’s not that unusual,” the agent hastened to reply. “People can often understand donkeys. Can’t YOU understand your donkeys?”
“Well of course I can understand my blessed donkeys!” Livingston replied. “I pretty well have to understand ‘em, since I run the Donkey Hotel here.”
“Well, there you go!” said the agent, and seemed to relax a bit. “So... Could we use one of your donkeys?”
“So you mean that one of my donkeys would live in Washington DC and advise the President?”
“No, not really advise him. Just pass along instructions from his controllers.” The agent held up his palms. “The President’s advisors, people like Steven Miller, J D Vance, Todd Blanch and others would tell the donkey what to tell the President, and then the donkey tells the President.”
“Ohh, eh. The same crew that have been telling the President what to do? I see how it is....”
“Then, you’ll do it?” The man in black was hopeful.
“It’s not up to me,” said Bob. “You’ll have to ask the donkeys.”
Old Solomon, who had been listening quietly, brayed out “Haw He Haw-um haw-n?”
“Of course Solomon,” said Bob calmly. “You can come along.” Bob led Old Solomon towards the barn, and the men in black followed after them.
“Haw hee hay haw haw um hawn hee?” brayed Solomon. “Hawn-hee hik huff um haw hee kem!”
“No Solomon. I’m sure these men will take ‘no’ for an answer because they know they are visiting a country where there is peace, order, and good government. It will not be necessary to kick the stuffing out of anyone.”
For a while, things looked discouraging. Bob offered each donkey the job. One after another, the donkeys brayed their replies. Each donkey said ‘no.’ Some of the donkeys seemed emphatic about it. When the last donkey turned them down, Bob and Old Solomon walked the despondent agents back to their car. They were nearly there when Old Solomon stopped and brayed a message, looking at each of the agents in turn.
Bob interpreted, and looked incredulous. “You, Solomon? You say you’ll do it?... Only if they bring you back when done?... A year’s funding in advance for the Donkey Hotel?” The three agents were nodding furiously.
“I think they agree to your terms.” Bob held Solomon’s donkey head in his hands. Tears formed in his eyes as he gazed into the kindly eyes of Solomon. “Be careful down there, eh Solomon? If you don’t like it, come right back!”
Solomon nuzzled Bob, then casually turned and walked to the back of the horse trailer. He gave a measured kick to the door. When it opened, he casually went into the trailer. The agents looked at each other. One scrambled over to close the back of the trailer. The second agent climbed into the driver’s seat. The third agent shook Bob’s hand furiously. “Thank you for helping us out!” He said. “Your donkey may just save the USA!”
Then the agent climbed into the limo, and it pulled the trailer down the road, West towards the Kamloops Airport.
Bob continued to gaze after the vanished car and donkey. “I hope you know what you’re doing Solomon,” he said to the empty field. “I hope I see you again.” Bob wiped the tears from his eyes, and went back to taking care of the donkeys.
I think all of us heard about the visit of the US Government plane, AirForce One, to the Kamloops Airport. It appeared at the airport twice, about a day apart. Neither visit was explained, and no US President was sighted.
Only a few of us know that the first flight took Solomon directly to Washington DC, and the second visit of AirForce One brought Solomon back home. He told Bob what happened in Washington:
They led Solomon into the White House, and tested to see if the President could truly understand him. The donkey passed with flying colours.
Somewhere in Washington DC, they led Solomon into a courtroom. A judge held out a bible, and Solomon stood on his hind legs. Placing his left hoof on the bible and raising his right hoof to the sky, he began to repeat the oath of office. J D Vance was watching from one side, and looked perplexed.
“I, Solomon Donkey,” intoned the judge.
“Ee, Haw maw ha, Haw-hee” repeated Solomon.
“Do solemnly swear,” said the judge.
“Haaw Haw-muh hee, Haw,” said Solomon.
“Stop everything!” It was J D Vance.
Vance came over and peered at Solomon, first on one side, then on the other.
“We can’t use this animal!” Said Vance. “He’s entirely unsuitable.”
“What do you mean?” said one of the men in black. “He passed the test! The President understands him!”
“Isn’t it obvious?,” said J D. “All donkeys are Democrats. Why do you think the Democrat mascot is a donkey? I’m telling you, this is a Democrat! Also a Canadian! We can’t have Democrats or Canadians running things– You can’t control what either one of them will do. Get this donkey out of here!”
And so it was that AirForce One, the US President’s plane, returned to the Kamloops airport for a second time in less than 24 hours. Bob was reunited with Solomon, his beloved donkey. The promised money to support the Donkey Hotel never showed up in the Hotel’s bank account, but Bob had always relied on the locals to keep it going. He was just glad that Solomon had been returned, unharmed.
“We’re really sorry about all this,” said one of the agents, hanging his head. “Thanks for trying to help us. It was a good try.”
“Sorry, eh?” said Bob, and cracked a tired smile. “That’s OK then. Ya know, with practice, you could become a Canadian. So, where do you go from here?”
“J D Vance is looking for an elephant that was born in the United States, but it sort of depends on whether POTUS can understand elephants too. Even if it works, the ‘elephant-in-the-room’ jokes alone....” He cringed as he said this, and said it without much hope. Then the agent shook hands with Bob briefly, got back into the black limousine, and they were gone.
That’s the story Bob told me. After Solomon told Bob, he stopped talking about it altogether. You see, Solomon put his hoof on the Bible in Washington DC and began to swear an oath. Even the President didn’t swear on the Bible in his second go-round! Solomon told Bob that as an honourable donkey, he takes his oaths seriously and keeps his promises, no matter what anyone else may do. Solomon figures that what goes on in Washington, stays in Washington. That’s one smart donkey.
---
Remember to Support your local Donkey Refuge!
https://turtlevalleydonkeyrefuge.com/support/donate/
Comments
Post a Comment