A Donkey Called Mistletoe Read online

“I don’t think we can bring Truffle here, though,” said Jasmine. “She used to go for walks when she was younger, but she doesn’t anymore.”

  “How about you take Mistletoe to your place, then?” asked Mr. Hobson. “For your sleepover thing. Practice a bit more with him on the lead now, then you should be fine to walk him over the fields tomorrow.”

  Tom and Jasmine beamed in delight. “That would be amazing!” said Jasmine.

  “You’ll have to ask your parents first, though,” said Mr. Hobson. “I don’t want them getting angry with me for letting you take a donkey home without their permission.”

  “Ted Hobson phoned to say how helpful you and Tom have been,” said Dad at dinnertime. “Sounds like he’s enjoyed having you around.”

  Jasmine knew a good chance when she saw it. “He said we can walk Mistletoe over here tomorrow. It’s very good for donkeys to go for walks and get new stimulation.”

  Mom frowned. “Are you sure you’ll be able to manage him by yourselves?”

  Manu looked excited. “Me and Ben can practice his walk and copy his noises, and then when we get the costume we’ll be exactly like a real donkey.”

  “Can we ride him, too?” asked Ben, who had come to have dinner with Manu.

  Manu’s eyes lit up. “Let’s have a rodeo! If I got on him and kicked my heels, I bet he’d gallop.”

  “You can’t ride him,” said Jasmine. “He’s old and he’s never been ridden. He might throw you off.”

  Ben laughed. “Like a bucking bronco!”

  “He couldn’t throw me off,” said Manu, “even if he got right up on his hind legs. I’d just hold on to his mane, and even if he was kicking and going wild, I wouldn’t fall off.”

  “You fell off the bucking bronco at the school fair,” said Ben. “You only stayed on it for about two seconds.”

  “That wasn’t my fault. The man didn’t give me a chance to get on properly before he started it up.”

  “You fell off on your second try, too. And your third. And—”

  “Anyway, you’re not riding him,” said Jasmine, “so don’t even think about it.” She turned to her father. “Dad, can me and Tom fence off a bit of the orchard?”

  “What for?”

  “Just so Mistletoe can rest there. We don’t want to leave him tied up, but we can’t let him loose with Truffle, in case they don’t get along. He’s going to be here all day while Mr. Hobson’s clearing out his house.”

  “Poor Mr. Hobson,” said Mom. “It must be terrible, having to leave his home.”

  “Especially when he’s leaving Mistletoe, too,” said Jasmine. “And the animal sanctuary’s so far away that they won’t ever see each other again.”

  Mom gave her a stern look. “I know what you’re trying to do, Jasmine, but you know perfectly well what the answer is.”

  “I thought Dotty was looking more perky this afternoon,” said Dad, trying to change the subject.

  “That’s because we took her to see Mistletoe,” said Jasmine. “You wouldn’t believe how well they get along. Imagine how happy she’d be if he could stay here forever.”

  Jasmine felt tremendous pride as they led the old donkey across the fields on Sunday morning. He walked calmly beside them, his ears forward. Tom held the lead rope and Jasmine carried the box of brushes and equipment.

  “He really trusts us, doesn’t he?” said Tom. “He’s quite happy with us leading him.”

  Dad had helped them put a fence across the orchard. Dotty and Truffle were in the top half, and the children led Mistletoe through the garden gate into the bottom half. They had filled a feed bowl with fresh barley straw.

  “He’ll love browsing in the hedge,” said Jasmine. “There’s so much tasty stuff there.”

  Dotty and Truffle were lying under an apple tree. As Mistletoe walked into the orchard, Dotty raised her head. She gave an excited bleat and scrabbled to her feet. Mistletoe brayed in greeting and Tom unclipped the lead rope.

  The fence was no barrier for the little deer. She leaped over it easily and ran toward the donkey. She stopped in front of him and he dipped his head so she could nuzzle his face.

  “What a lovely sight!”

  Tom and Jasmine turned to see Mom standing at the gate.

  Jasmine beamed. “See how they love each other. We think Dotty’s adopted Mistletoe as a kind of replacement for Bramble.”

  Dotty set off at a trot around the orchard. To Jasmine’s amazement, Mistletoe started to trot after her.

  “Look how happy they are! And Dotty’s been so miserable. It’s like they were made for each other.”

  Mom sighed. “They’re very sweet together. I can absolutely see that. But you can’t just keep accumulating animals forever.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one thing, the expense. There’s the cost of putting up a decent shelter. And donkeys need regular farrier’s visits, did you know that?”

  “Yes,” said Jasmine. “I’m going to ask everyone for money for Christmas and birthdays. And—”

  Mom’s phone rang. She took it out of her pocket and looked at the screen.

  “Sorry, I need to get this. But the answer is still no.” She walked back toward the house.

  “She’s not going to change her mind, is she?” said Tom. “I mean, if she wasn’t even convinced by seeing them together like that, what will it take to convince her?”

  Mistletoe and Dotty spent the whole morning together, grazing and browsing, occasionally kicking up their heels and going for a trot around the orchard. Jasmine kept hoping that Mistletoe and Truffle would start to make friends, but they took no notice at all of each other.

  Manu was very excited to meet Mistletoe, but he soon grew restless when the donkey wasn’t as lively as he’d hoped.

  “Why doesn’t he gallop? I thought he’d be galloping all the time.”

  “He’s an old donkey,” said Jasmine. “And it’s not a rodeo.”

  “He’s a boring donkey,” said Manu.

  He left the orchard. A few minutes later, he was back. “Mom wants you in the kitchen.”

  Jasmine frowned. “What for?”

  “Dunno. She said she needs to talk to you right now. And Tom.”

  Tom looked worried. “What have we done?”

  “I don’t know,” said Jasmine. Her mind went over all her recent crimes. “Maybe she knows it was us who ate that whole package of cookies. But she doesn’t usually make a fuss about stuff like that.”

  Mom was in the kitchen working on her laptop.

  “What did you want us for?” asked Jasmine.

  Mom looked up, a puzzled expression on her face. “What do you mean?”

  “Manu said you wanted to see us.”

  Mom frowned. “I didn’t say that.”

  At the exact same moment, Tom and Jasmine gasped. They stared at each other, each seeing their own thoughts mirrored in the other’s face. Without a word, they turned and ran.

  It was exactly as Jasmine had feared. As soon as they came within sight of the orchard, she saw Manu trying to scramble onto Mistletoe. He was almost across the donkey’s back, and he was frantically trying to hoist himself upright. Mistletoe’s ears were flattened back, and he was swishing his tail and stamping.

  For a moment, Jasmine stood frozen in panic. Then she started running, her heart thumping in her chest, praying Mistletoe wouldn’t bolt before she got to Manu. As she reached the orchard gate, Manu started slithering off Mistletoe’s back. In a desperate attempt to stay on, he grabbed the donkey’s mane in both fists. Mistletoe threw up his head and brayed loudly. He kicked up his heels and galloped across the orchard. Manu screamed as his feet dragged across the grass, one of his hands still clutching Mistletoe’s mane.

  Jasmine raced into the orchard. But before she could reach Manu, Mom, with what seemed like superhuman speed, sprinted past her.

  “Let go!” Mom shouted, running alongside Mistletoe and grabbing Manu around the waist. “I’ve got you!”

&
nbsp; Manu let go and Mom pulled him away. The donkey continued to gallop around the orchard, braying and tossing his head. Mom led Manu into the garden. Jasmine followed, shutting the gate behind her. Manu was wide-eyed and his teeth were chattering.

  “What is wrong with you?” Jasmine shouted. “I told you not to ride Mistletoe!”

  Jasmine felt tears prickling at her eyelids. Manu had ruined everything. She would never be allowed to keep Mistletoe now.

  However much Jasmine protested, Mom wouldn’t budge.

  “It’s just not safe. You can’t watch him all the time, and then there’s your brother. You have to take Mistletoe back to Honey Farm.”

  “But that’s so unfair!”

  “I’m sorry, Jasmine, but we can’t trust Manu around him. And Harrison’s coming this afternoon. Manu might take him into the orchard, and I’m not risking Harrison getting kicked in the head by a donkey.”

  “He wouldn’t! Mistletoe’s the sweetest donkey ever. He just got spooked by Manu trying to ride him. And he didn’t even do anything bad. He just tried to get away from Manu, which is totally understandable.”

  “Maybe,” said Mom. “But I’m responsible for Harrison while he’s here and I can’t take the risk.”

  “So we have to take him back right now?”

  “Well, not this minute. He needs to calm down first. But you or Tom must be in the orchard the entire time, OK? And Manu, you are not allowed in there under any circumstances.”

  “I wouldn’t anyway,” Manu said. “That donkey’s vicious. And he’s got fleas.”

  “He does not,” said Jasmine indignantly.

  “He does, look. They bit me all over. It’s really itchy.”

  Mom, Tom, and Jasmine turned to Manu. Although it was November, he had insisted on dressing in shorts and a T-shirt. And his bare arms and legs were covered in big blotchy purple lumps.

  “Oh, my goodness, Manu, you must be allergic,” said Mom.

  “Allergic to donkeys?”

  “It looks like it. Try not to scratch. I’ll give you some antihistamine to stop the itching. And you definitely can’t touch Mistletoe again.”

  “I’m not going to,” said Manu. “He’s evil.”

  When Harrison arrived, he and Manu went out to the garden to make a bug habitat. Tom had to go home, but he was coming back later to walk Mistletoe to Honey Farm. Mom gave Jasmine strict instructions not to leave the orchard.

  Mistletoe had calmed down now. He and Dotty were browsing in the hedge at the bottom of the orchard. His ears were facing forward and his muscles were relaxed.

  Jasmine trundled her wheelbarrow around, picking up manure. In the garden, Manu was digging a hole with a big spoon. Harrison had lost interest in digging. He stood in front of a bush away from Manu, craning his head forward to look intently at something on a leaf.

  Truffle heaved herself up from where she had been lying under an apple tree. She shook her head and flapped her huge floppy ears. Mistletoe turned toward her and brayed softly. He and Truffle hadn’t bonded yet, but they certainly didn’t seem to mind each other.

  Not that it matters anymore, thought Jasmine miserably. There’s no chance of Mistletoe coming to live here now. Next week he’ll be taken to the animal sanctuary, and none of us will ever see him again.

  When Harrison heard Mistletoe bray, he looked up from the leaf he was studying. His eyes fell on the donkey. He stood completely still, watching him.

  Jasmine carried on pushing the wheelbarrow, glancing regularly at Harrison, whose attention was still fixed on Mistletoe. She didn’t think Harrison would do anything to upset the donkey, but she had promised Mom she would be super careful.

  She stopped by the hedge to scoop up some dung.

  “Is that your donkey?” asked Harrison.

  The question made Jasmine sad. If only she could say yes!

  “No,” she said. “He belongs to someone else, but I’m looking after him today. He’s called Mistletoe.”

  “Mistletoe,” Harrison murmured. He continued to look at the donkey for a minute. Then he said, “Can I pet him?”

  Jasmine hesitated. Would Mom be mad if she let Harrison come into the orchard? But Mistletoe was such a gentle donkey. If Manu hadn’t tried to ride him, there wouldn’t have been any trouble.

  “OK,” she said. “Just walk slowly and talk to him quietly. He likes people to be calm around him.”

  Harrison opened the gate and walked slowly down the orchard, keeping close to the hedge, watching Mistletoe, who was grazing in the far corner. When Harrison reached the bottom of the orchard, he stood still, looking intently at the donkey on the opposite side.

  Mistletoe appeared to be grazing, but Jasmine could see that this was what Mr. Hobson had called “sham grazing.” He was only pretending to eat the grass. His eyes were trained on Harrison.

  After a while, Mistletoe lifted his head and started to amble toward the boy. He stopped in front of him and looked straight at him. Harrison returned his gaze. The boy and the donkey stood completely still, looking into each other’s eyes.

  “Hello, Mistletoe,” said Harrison softly.

  He reached out and touched the donkey’s face. Slowly and gently, he began to stroke him, speaking softly to him as he did so. Jasmine could tell that Mistletoe was listening. His ears were pointed toward Harrison and his body language was relaxed.

  For several minutes, Harrison stood there, speaking softly and stroking the donkey’s face and ears. Then Mistletoe bent and sniffed Harrison’s shoes. Harrison giggled. Mistletoe’s ears flattened and he took a step backward. Harrison stood rigid, looking anxious. He waited a few seconds and then he took another step toward the donkey. Mistletoe stayed still as Harrison reached out and stroked him.

  A slow smile spread over Harrison’s face. He leaned his forehead in to touch the donkey’s forehead. Jasmine tensed, watching Mistletoe. But he looked completely relaxed, his breathing slow and gentle. He and Harrison stayed leaning toward each other, their foreheads touching, for several silent seconds. Then Mistletoe gently lifted his head and started to amble across the orchard. Harrison fell into step beside him, and Mistletoe kept one ear trained on the boy as they walked side by side.

  “You say ‘Walk on’ when you want him to move, and ‘Stand’ when you want him to stop,” Jasmine said.

  Mistletoe stopped to graze by the dividing fence, a few yards away from Jasmine. Harrison stroked the donkey’s back, saying his name softly as he petted him.

  “He likes that,” said Jasmine. “You can brush his coat if you want.”

  Harrison nodded. Jasmine fetched the halter and the box of brushes and combs.

  “This is the dandy brush,” she said, taking it from the box. “It’s got stiff bristles, so we don’t use it on his face or legs. There’s another one with softer bristles for the parts where he’s more sensitive.”

  Harrison didn’t look at Jasmine, but he took the brush and examined it closely, stroking his fingers over the bristles.

  Jasmine showed Harrison the halter and explained what she was doing as she let Mistletoe sniff it before she put it on. Once the donkey was wearing the halter and lead rope, she said, “There, you can brush his back now if you want to.”

  Harrison stroked the brush gently down Mistletoe’s back.

  “Good,” said Jasmine. “See how he’s standing quiet and relaxed, with his ears pointing forward. That means he likes you brushing him.”

  A car appeared on the farm driveway. Jasmine glanced around and saw it was Harrison’s dad. Harrison didn’t seem to have noticed. He was absorbed in brushing Mistletoe with slow, rhythmic strokes.

  He brushed Mistletoe’s back thoroughly on both sides, and then, without looking at her, he handed the brush back to Jasmine.

  “Do you want the soft brush now?” she asked. Harrison nodded and held out his hand.

  Jasmine noticed that her mom and Harrison’s dad were watching them over the garden gate. Mom shot Jasmine a look, and Jasmine knew she was
about to be in big trouble. But just as Mom made a move to open the gate, Harrison’s dad said something that changed her mind. The two adults stood still, watching the children.

  Jasmine handed Harrison the body brush. “This is for his face, ears, tail, and legs.”

  Harrison inspected it carefully. Then he brushed the donkey gently and rhythmically. As he bent down to groom the lower legs, Jasmine watched for any stamping or tail swishing, but Mistletoe stayed calm.

  Harrison kept his eyes fixed on the donkey as he handed the brush back to Jasmine. Then he pointed to the halter.

  “We can take it off now,” said Jasmine.

  As soon as Mistletoe was free, he walked off toward Dotty. Harrison followed him, but he stumbled on a clump of grass and fell.

  To her amazement, Mistletoe stopped and turned. He lowered his head to the boy’s as Harrison lay on the ground, and sniffed Harrison’s hair. Harrison laughed softly and said, “Mistletoe.”

  He put out his hand to stroke the donkey’s face, and then he got to his feet and the two of them walked down the orchard together.

  Jasmine turned and saw Harrison’s dad watching, mesmerized.

  He caught her eye and smiled. “Thank you so much. That was amazing to watch. I’ve never seen him so relaxed with an animal.”

  “Well, Mistletoe is very special,” said Jasmine.

  Harrison’s dad nodded. “There’s something very peaceful about him, isn’t there? He’s so calm that he seems to calm Harrison down, too.”

  “And Harrison understands Mistletoe,” said Jasmine. “He knows Mistletoe likes to be approached quietly and spoken to softly. Mistletoe really liked Harrison talking to him.”

  When his dad told Harrison it was time to go, Harrison ignored him and kept petting Mistletoe.

  “You can come and see him again,” said Jasmine. “And groom him, if you like.”

  Harrison’s face broke into a beaming smile.

  It was only after Harrison and his dad had left the orchard that Jasmine remembered Mistletoe wouldn’t be coming back.