A Donkey Called Mistletoe Read online

  Tom looked worried. “How are we actually going to do this, though? If Mistletoe’s living in the orchard, we can’t exactly keep it a secret for long.”

  “I’m not asking my parents,” said Jasmine. “You know what they’re like. They always say no to everything.”

  “So what are you going to do, then?”

  “Mr. Hobson’s happy for us to have him, isn’t he? He said so.”

  Tom frowned. “No, he didn’t.”

  “He said it was very kind of me to offer, but not to worry. That’s what people say when they want you to do something but they’re too polite to say so. Obviously he’d like us to have him.”

  “But we still can’t keep him secretly.”

  “No, but we can bring him here without telling them first. And then he’ll make friends with Dotty and Truffle, and once Mom and Dad see them all snuggled up happily together, they’ll change their minds and let me keep him.”

  “But what if they don’t? Or what if the animals don’t like one another? Then we’d have to tell Mr. Hobson we couldn’t keep him after all, and that wouldn’t be fair.”

  Jasmine sighed impatiently. But Tom was thinking. After a pause, he said, “How about we ask Mr. Hobson if we can bring Mistletoe here for a trial, to see how he gets along with the other animals? We could ask to bring him for just one night.”

  “Like a donkey sleepover!” said Jasmine.

  “Exactly. Then once he’s here, we can try to persuade your parents to let us keep him. And if they won’t, then we’ll just have to take him back and he’ll go to the animal sanctuary, like Mr. Hobson’s arranged anyway.”

  Jasmine nodded thoughtfully. “That is actually a good plan.” She shut the laptop and stood up. “Let’s find his number and phone him right now.”

  Unfortunately, Mr. Hobson didn’t think a donkey sleepover was a good idea. Not yet, anyway.

  “Why don’t you come and spend some time with him first?” he said. “I can show you what he needs and you can get to know him better.”

  “That would be great,” said Jasmine, trying to hide her disappointment about the sleepover. “Can we come tomorrow?”

  So they spent Sunday morning with Dotty and Truffle, and then walked across the fields to Honey Farm after lunch. When they arrived, Mr. Hobson was in the field on his mobility scooter, stroking Mistletoe’s neck.

  “Thank you for helping out,” he said. “I’m very grateful to you.”

  “We’re very grateful to you,” said Jasmine.

  Mr. Hobson laughed. “You might not say that once you find out what you have to do. The first job is mucking out and picking up the dung.”

  “We don’t mind,” said Jasmine. “We want to do all the jobs.”

  Tom mucked out the barn while Jasmine trundled a wheelbarrow around the field, picking up dung with a manure scoop. She was hoping Mistletoe might follow her, but he stayed by Mr. Hobson’s side the whole time.

  When the children finished, Mr. Hobson said, “I imagine you’d like to groom him, wouldn’t you?”

  Jasmine and Tom grinned at each other.

  “Can you bring his halter from the barn, then?”

  Jasmine fetched the halter and lead rope from the hook on the barn wall.

  “He’s used to wearing it,” said Mr. Hobson, “but he needs to get used to you putting it on, so go slow. Talk to him quietly and take a bit of time to scratch his withers first, so he relaxes with you.”

  “Scratch his what?” said Tom.

  Mr. Hobson indicated the point at the top of the donkey’s shoulders, just below his mane.

  “That’s called his withers. Donkeys like being scratched there, and on their ears and back.”

  Jasmine scratched Mistletoe’s withers while Tom stroked his ears.

  “That’s right,” said Mr. Hobson. “You can see he’s relaxed when he’s standing nice and quietly like this and his ears are pointing forward. If he flattens his ears back, or swishes his tail or stamps his foot, those are all warning signs that he’s uneasy about something.”

  “What should we do if he does that?” asked Tom.

  “Just stand there quietly, and when he stops swishing or stamping, move away a bit. Never try to force a donkey to do anything. They respond to rewards, so if he does something well, stroke or scratch him.”

  “What about treats?” asked Jasmine.

  Mr. Hobson shook his head. “Bribing donkeys with food encourages all sorts of bad behavior. They might just snatch it and run away, or even bite you to try to get a treat. The best reward is to give him attention. Now he’s nice and relaxed, so you can hold the halter in front of him and let him sniff it.”

  Mistletoe happily sniffed the halter. Mr. Hobson showed the children how to adjust it and attach the lead rope to the ring under the donkey’s chin.

  “There you go. Now you can give him a scratch before you start grooming him.”

  “Do you groom him every day?” asked Jasmine.

  “Generally we do. It’s a good way to check for any skin problems or injuries as well as keep him clean, and it helps you bond with him. We don’t groom him if his coat’s wet, though, because the water and dirt get to the skin, and that means more chance of infection.”

  Tom fetched the box of combs and brushes from the barn. Mr. Hobson placed it on his lap.

  “Start with the dandy brush. One of you can hold the lead rope while the other one grooms him.”

  “You can brush him first if you want,” Jasmine said to Tom, feeling very generous.

  “Use the dandy brush to get dried mud and dirt off,” said Mr. Hobson. “It’s got hard bristles, so don’t use it on his lower legs, face, or ears, where he’s more sensitive.”

  Tom put his hand on Mistletoe’s neck and said, “I’m just going to brush your back, OK?”

  “That’s exactly right,” said Mr. Hobson approvingly. “Always keep a hand on him as you’re working your way around so he knows where you are, and keep talking to him. And walk around the front of him, not the rear. He’s very unlikely to kick, but you never know when something might startle him.”

  When Tom had finished, he held the rope while Jasmine used the soft-bristled body brush on Mistletoe’s ears, face, belly, tail, and lower legs, talking reassuringly to him the whole time.

  Mr. Hobson showed them how to clean the dirt out of the brushes with the plastic currycomb. Then he handed the hoof pick to Jasmine.

  “His hooves need picking out every day. He’s very quiet generally, but if he’s in pain, or he senses you’re nervous, he might kick, so go carefully. Start by running your hand from his withers down his front left shoulder, then down the back of his leg to the fetlock joint.”

  Jasmine wasn’t sure what the fetlock joint was, so she ran her hand slowly down Mistletoe’s leg, hoping Mr. Hobson would tell her where to stop. When her hand was almost at the bottom of the donkey’s leg, Mr. Hobson said, “Now tug gently at the fetlock to encourage him to pick his foot up.”

  So a fetlock is basically an ankle, Jasmine thought.

  She pulled gently. Mistletoe kept his foot on the ground. She tried again but he still didn’t budge.

  “If he doesn’t want to move, lean against his shoulder with your hip,” said Mr. Hobson. “That usually does the trick. It shifts his weight to the other foot, you see.”

  Jasmine leaned heavily against Mistletoe and grasped his fetlock again. This time, he picked up his foot.

  Good,” said Mr. Hobson. “Now, don’t lift it too high, and keep his foot directly under his body—you don’t want to put any strain on his joints.”

  Following Mr. Hobson’s instructions, Jasmine picked out the mud and small stones from Mistletoe’s front feet. Then she held the rope while Tom did the back ones.

  “If you do that every day,” said Mr. Hobson, “you get to know how his feet should look, and you’ll be able to spot any injuries or swelling early on.”

  “It’s so much work looking after a donkey,” said Tom in amazeme
nt. “I always thought they just lived in a field and that was it.”

  Mr. Hobson smiled. “Are you changing your minds?”

  “No!” they said, shaking their heads emphatically.

  Tom was right, Jasmine thought. It was a lot of work. But that just made it more exciting. She couldn’t wait to take Mistletoe home with her.

  When Tom and Jasmine had finished grooming Mistletoe, Mr. Hobson showed them how to lead him around the field on a slack rope. They had to say “Walk on” when they wanted him to move and “Halt” to get him to stop.

  Jasmine was getting more and more excited at the thought of bringing Mistletoe to Oak Tree Farm. But first there was one crucial question to be answered: Would Mistletoe get along with Dotty and Truffle?

  As they unfastened his halter, Jasmine had an idea.

  “Would it be OK to come again next Saturday and bring Dotty with us? To introduce her to Mistletoe?”

  Mr. Hobson smiled at her. “Is this part of your scheme to have Mistletoe live at your farm?”

  “Yes. He’d be living in the orchard with Dotty and Truffle, you see.”

  “And what do your mom and dad think about this?”

  “I haven’t exactly told them yet,” said Jasmine. “We want to make sure the animals get along first.”

  “Well, by all means bring Dotty on Saturday. I’d love to meet her.”

  “Can we bring my dog as well? He’s very well behaved.”

  “Of course. I’d love to meet him, too.”

  “It’s just that Dotty’s so depressed at the moment, she might refuse to come on her own. But if Sky’s coming, she’ll probably come, too.”

  “Why don’t you make a little pen for the deer?” said Mr. Hobson. “Then she and Mistletoe can get to know each other, but she’ll be safe if Mistletoe doesn’t like her for any reason.”

  Tom and Jasmine fetched four metal rails from the farmyard and constructed a little pen at the edge of the field. Jasmine called Mistletoe over to join them, but instead he walked to Mr. Hobson and nuzzled into his shoulder. Mr. Hobson leaned his head against the donkey’s and closed his eyes.

  A horrible wave of guilt flooded over Jasmine. She had been so excited about having Mistletoe that she had barely thought about how sad it would be for him and Mr. Hobson to be parted. How selfish she felt.

  She was still feeling terrible when her mom and Manu appeared at the gate.

  “Why are you here?” asked Jasmine.

  “Well that’s a lovely greeting,” said Mom. “Tom’s going to his auntie’s house, and I have to go shopping, so I said I’d pick you both up.”

  They dropped Tom at his auntie’s house and then drove to the supermarket. Jasmine and Manu wanted to go to the toy aisle, but Mom steered them toward the food.

  “Right, Manu, I need you to behave yourself,” said Mom as they headed toward the fruit and vegetable aisle. “No sneaking things into the cart, OK?”

  “Can I get extra carrots?” asked Jasmine. “For Dotty and Truffle?”

  “Sure,” said Mom. “But just get the cheap ones.”

  While Mom was choosing vegetables, Manu darted into the candy aisle, snatched an enormous chocolate bar from the shelf, and slipped it into the cart, covering it with a bag of potatoes.

  “Take that out of the cart, Manu,” said Mom as they turned into the next aisle.

  “How did you even see that?” said Manu.

  “Just go put it back on the shelf.”

  “Please, Mom,” said Manu. “You never let us buy fun stuff. Everyone else is allowed to—”

  “No arguing,” said Mom. “Put it back, please.”

  “Oh, look, it’s Harrison!” said Manu.

  Harrison’s mom was pushing her shopping cart slowly down the aisle, scanning the shelves. Harrison walked beside her. He was wearing headphones and reading a book.

  “Hey, Harrison!” called Manu.

  “He won’t hear you with headphones on,” said Jasmine.

  But Harrison looked up and gave Manu a little wave.

  “See?” said Manu triumphantly. “His headphones just make things quieter, but he can still hear. They’re really cool. I’ve tried them.”

  He walked over to his friend. Harrison’s mom smiled at Manu.

  “Jasmine, can you take that chocolate back, please?” said Mom. “I need to speak to Sarah.”

  When Jasmine returned, the moms were arranging for Harrison to visit the farm next weekend, and Harrison was telling Manu about his book.

  “Did you know a bee’s wings beat more than two hundred times per second?” said Harrison. “That’s why they make such a loud buzzing sound.”

  “Wow,” said Manu. “I thought they made the buzzing sound with their mouths.”

  “The queen bee can lay twenty-five hundred eggs a day in the summer,” said Harrison. “Look.”

  Manu leaned over Harrison’s shoulder to look at a large diagram of a bee.

  “Mom,” he said, tugging at his mom’s sleeve. “Did you know a honeybee has five eyes? That’s so cool!”

  Harrison’s mom smiled. “I can see why these two get along.”

  “I hope Manu isn’t too noisy for him,” said Mom.

  “Harrison doesn’t mind,” said Sarah. “He likes making bug habitats with Manu and Ben. He just walks away if they get to be too much for him.”

  “I don’t blame him,” said Jasmine. “That’s what I do, too.”

  On the following Saturday afternoon, Jasmine and Tom set out for Honey Farm with Dotty and Sky. The collie bounded across the fields, wagging his tail and running in big circles around the children. Dotty walked on her lead beside Jasmine. As Jasmine had predicted, the deer had been reluctant to come. So reluctant, in fact, that Jasmine had had to carry Dotty out of the orchard while Sky leaped around her and gave the deer some encouraging barks and licks.

  Mr. Hobson and Mistletoe were at the far end of the field when they arrived. Tom tied Sky to the gatepost outside. “Good boy,” he said. “Stay there.”

  Sky lay down contentedly, and Jasmine led Dotty to the pen. Mr. Hobson drove across the field to greet them.

  “What a beautiful little deer,” he said, stroking Dotty’s face. “She’s a real credit to you, Jasmine.”

  “Thank you,” said Jasmine, gazing at Dotty with pride. “She’s too skinny at the moment, though. She hasn’t been eating well since Bramble died.”

  “Should we bring Mistletoe to meet her?” asked Tom.

  Mr. Hobson shook his head. “Best to let him do it in his own time.”

  So Jasmine got on with the mucking-out and Tom did the poop-picking, while Mistletoe browsed in the hedge at the top of the field. Dotty stood at the rails of the pen, making her little bleating call to Jasmine now and again. Jasmine hoped Mistletoe would want to meet Dotty, but he didn’t even seem to have noticed her.

  Just as they finished their jobs, a middle-aged man walked into the field. He wore very new-looking jeans with nice shoes and a flowery shirt. He didn’t look like a farmer.

  “Dad!” he called, and Mr. Hobson turned and drove across the field to meet him. Jasmine and Tom stared in fascination at Mr. Hobson’s son. He looked so different from his father.

  Jasmine couldn’t hear what Mr. Hobson’s son said, but she did hear Mr. Hobson say, “Yes, that’s fine. Do what you like with it. Don’t fuss, I’ll be in later.”

  His son said something else that Jasmine couldn’t hear, and then he strode back toward the house, frowning. Jasmine glanced at Tom, and she could tell he felt awkward, too.

  They walked over to Mr. Hobson.

  “If you need to go in, it’s OK,” said Jasmine. “We know what to do now.”

  He smiled at her. “I know you do. But it’s a good excuse to keep out of the way while my children pack up the house. I’ve told them I don’t care about any of it except the books and pictures, but they keep fussing.”

  “Look!” whispered Tom.

  Mistletoe had left the hedge and was amblin
g toward Dotty’s pen. Jasmine held her breath as the old donkey approached the rails and stared at the little deer. Dotty stared back at him for several seconds. Then she leaned her long neck toward him until their faces were nearly touching. She sniffed. Mistletoe sniffed back.

  Mr. Hobson smiled. “That’s good. They’re getting to know each other.”

  The children walked Sky around the edge of the field on his leash, to give Dotty and Mistletoe time to bond. When they got back to Dotty’s pen, Mistletoe had his head over the rails. They watched as Dotty leaned toward him and licked the side of his nose. The donkey stretched his head farther into the pen and Dotty licked him again.

  “They’ve started bonding!” said Jasmine. “Do you think we could let Dotty out of the pen?”

  “Try it,” said Mr. Hobson. “I think they’ll get along fine.”

  Jasmine opened the pen and put on Dotty’s lead. To her surprise and delight, Mistletoe turned and walked beside them as she led Dotty across the field. Tom and Sky walked on the other side of Mistletoe.

  “Why don’t you let Sky have a run off the leash?” suggested Mr. Hobson. “He and Mistletoe don’t seem bothered by each other.”

  Sky was delighted to be free. He bounded around the field, sniffing at every new scent, his tail wagging in delight. Mistletoe stayed with Dotty.

  “Let the deer off the lead, too, if you like,” said Mr. Hobson. So they did, but Dotty didn’t run off like Sky. She stayed next to Mistletoe, matching his pace. She looked happier than she had since Bramble had died.

  “That’s amazing,” said Tom. “She’s attached to him already.”

  “I think she can sense something in Mistletoe that’s like Bramble,” said Jasmine. “Like Mistletoe has the same sort of soul as Bramble. Calm and gentle.”

  “Perhaps she likes being with an older animal,” said Mr. Hobson. “Like a sort of parent figure.”

  “Do you know if Mistletoe gets along with pigs? He’d be living with Truffle, too.”

  “I don’t think he’s ever met a pig. But I’ve never had a problem with him getting along with any animal.”