Thread by @homemadeguitars

It's raining its everloving ass off, and Abe's out standing in it.
He was under the roof eating hay when it started. He stopped eating and went out to stand in it.
The girls are under the roof.
God we need the rain. I hope it goes on all night.

I have no evidence or proof of it, but I think Abe's genome evolved in a different biome than the girls' did, for tens or hundreds of thousands of years.
They are very different, physically.
His feet are twice as big as Missy's, and they're pretty near the same height & length.

3. The girls are African desert asses, from Somalia or South Africa, which are similar populations. There are still a tiny few wild ones left, but of course, we're...
You know.

4. Most of the working donkeys in the world are similar to my girls. Abe's leg bones are bigger. He has at least some "Mammoth jackstock" genetics in him, although his dam was pure US desert adoptee, with a number on her neck.
They're bigger but I don't think they're as tough.

5. Abe's sire, Jake, didn't live very long. Abe's not looking good. He gets skinnier and skinnier. If I shovel anything richer into him he shits wetter, and gets rid of it.
He runs ok on hay and a little pan feed, but he's not forever. He's good, though, and I'm glad he's here.

6. He taught me a lot, and sometimes I'm a poor student. He's quite a character.
They were all hassling me today. I was in a bad mood, and I try to hide it but they're mind readers.
So they just gave me shit. No, I can't go through that door... Won't go...
So we went on a ride.

7. Clara is making a giant big deal out of every dark object or deep shadow on the road.
They never stop.
So we just walked, and I nagged, and some of the way Missy pulled me, the cart, and Clara locked up tight, and we got there.

8. There's an old man lives up the road a piece, on the way to Richmond. I asked him today his age and he said, "If I make it to May I'll be 102."
I've met him, time or two, over the years.
He sits out in his yard in the shade. Lives with his daughter. Still mows the grass, stuff

9. So, last time we were out I just invited myself and the girls up his drive. His friendly old dog barked friendly old barks at the donkey visitors, but he was a peaceful sort.
So today I was looking for him, and he was out, so we stopped in. His drive is a few hundred yards,

10. and we walk up the drive, and the dog barks, and he speaks to the dog, and I speak to the girls, and we speak to each other, and I drive up. He says, "Tie'em to that truck bumper there," and I do, and I drag up a chair, and the girls are so close they're mooching, so I give

11. him a handful of donkey goodies, and he and Clara become best friends.
And we visited a while. He farmed with mules and horses up to 1936, they got a Farmall. I didn't ask him where they were - if it was in Iowa my grandfather probably sold his father the Farmall.

12. Started to thunder off in the east, and I told him we'd have to go. He invited me back, and I'll go if I am able.
We got a little bit wet on the way home, but not soaked. I had the girls trot most of the way. They're not crazy about this idea, especially Missy.

13. Missy needs to trot some. She's pushing towards plump. Clara is light on her feet. And I wasn't into getting rained on a whole lot if I could avoid it.
They'd really rather not trot uphill, and I accept that, although they easily could with practice.
There's only so much.

14. We were all in a better mood when we got back than we were when we left.