NOT MY DONKEY

 As the Catskill Social Season continues at a good clip, those long, languid days of summer are quickly blurring before our bloodshot eyes. Before you know it we'll be sipping toddys and loading up the woodstove. The Majestic Farm pig roast a distant memory, this weekend found the local scenesters  gathered on the lush lawns of The Denniston Hill Foundation. These shindigs are becoming more and more fun, relaxed and chill. Or maybe it's just all the cold beer and good chow provided by new resident Lez Parks. Lez and Manny are the weekend power couple who have taken to classing up the local quizzine. Fresh pork from Majestic, fresh veggies from Trussbridge, fresh cider from Andy and Polly all whipped up by LParks and did I mention the Brooklyn Lager....?

   And this brings me to the donkey. For some reason everyone around here has a fucking donkey. Case in point: Every morning, just before dawn, I'm waken from my golden slumbers by Dennis the "big dick" donkey over on RNButch's farm. The only thing more impressive than the wood this beast is packing is his lungs. He starts to hee-haw and winds it up like a air raid siren, only letting go with a horrific exhale, after he's woken up everything within 2 miles. You gotta love him for his forceful personality.....but Christallmighty he's annoying. Then there's the baby donkey, who's cute as hell and something that looks like a mule. And that's just on one farm across the street.
    Down the road is the pregnant, wandering, Majestic donkey, who's supposed to be guarding Majestic's sheep herd. This donkey has no interest in sheep, nor in staying in the field. All she wants to do is hit the road, and get out of town. It's what everyone is saying around here in response to irate motorists- "Not my donkey." We now have donkeys joining deer and Diamond Dave's escaped cow as local road hazards. And this brings me back to all the cold beer. As things wound down at DHF I wanted to hit Slick's @ Paradise Pond to see the late season fireworks. So I rushed Shewho from the table, rudely left the party, grabbed my guitar and headed for the pond. The first indication something was escew was the right front tire slipping into the ditch at 50 mph. Then I blew by the road to the pond. I've been coming here for almost all of my 70 years. I should know where the turn  is. By the time we got through the gates, the bridge was blocked by a trailer full of crackers and we were dead in the water. We watched the fireworks from the car. It was then I realized just how little I like fireworks anymore. They now bore the hell out of me. What happened?
   By the time  we got to Slick's and parked the car, Shewho and I were in a drunken (me not her) slappy battle to clip down Shirley's convertible top. In my dark, impatient tussle to get the top up, feathers got ruffled and before I knew it Shewho was rightfully pissed at me for being so pissed drunk and inconsiderate. I staggered from the car and as both of us tried to find our way in the dark, down Slick's stairs to the lake, all I could think of was lawsuit. Maybe just throw myself down the stairs and Shewho could sue? Would she care? Not at this point. By the time we got down to the water, everyone was leaving. I heard something about Birka and Wheels Budde falling in the drink and the Contessa saving them. We missed all the action. Don't try this at home kids. I drove back across that deathtrap dam road, drunk as a skunk and somehow made it to the bridge in one piece. Then it occurred to me as I rounded the curve before DHF, Shewho still steaming at me for being such an asshole, when something glinted....isn't there a donkey wandering somewhere around.............