That made all three of us chuckle.
“Over there is the other pony, Blodyn, which is Welsh for ‘Flower.’She is a Welsh Pony and best friends with the very feisty and moody Sandrine, who has the golden coat and white mane and tail.”He pointed to the farthest shady spot in the field where Sandrine and Blodyn stood watching all of them with keen interest.
“That one over there is enormous,” I said, pointing to the behemoth who was rubbing its neck against a fence post.
“That’s Monarch,” he said, nodding.
As if Monarch heard his name, he lifted his head, stared at us for a moment, then started to slowly, regally walk toward us.I sucked in a sharp breath as his size grew clearer and clearer the closer he came.The horse was absolutely gigantic.
“He is a Percheron,” Tom said as Monarch reached us.“Used to pull carriages around a city every day of the week for hours.Was hard on his knees on the concrete roads.Gentle giant, this guy.Loves people.Loves attention.”He patted his neck, then kissed it.
Monarch’s nostrils flared, and he swished his black tail, eyeing Sam and me curiously.
“He loves to be brushed,” Tom said.“And always comes to the fence to visit.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my daughter’s chest puff up a little as she boldly took a small step toward the towering beast.“H-hi, Monarch.Y-you’re a big boy.”She reached her hand out toward his neck, but unlike Mouse—who watched with concern—Monarch seemed entirely at ease, if not eager for the pets.
Her hand made contact with his neck, and she smiled wider than I’d seen in a long time.
Tom stepped to the side as Sam started to pet Monarch and get more comfortable sharing the space with the big guy.
We stayed there with Monarch for a few more minutes, then Tom led us to the next barn where the goats were.“Sometimes they interact with the donkeys and horses, but Piñata has been bothering them a lot.So they’re being kept separate from him for now.For their safety and his.”
“Did you name him Piñata?”Sam asked, which totally startled me since she never asked strangers questions—ever.
Tom nodded.“He came with the name Johnny.He is not a ‘Johnny.’He is the inspiration for Piñatas.So that is why he is Piñata.”
I snorted a laugh.“I guess we know why he ended up here.”
All Tom could do was make a face of regrettable agreement and nod again.“I do not choose who comes here.If they need a home, they are welcome.Even the assholes.”He glanced quickly at Sam.“Oh,scusi.The jerks, I mean.I should not swear in front of children.”
Sam glanced at me and smirked.“Mom swears.So do my aunts.”
I cleared my throat.“Anyway.”I was about to say something else when a loud, obnoxious series of quacks interrupted us.
It definitely sounded like several ducks were telling each other—or someone else—off for swimming intheirpond.
Tom tilted his head to the side for a moment, then alarm filled his eyes and he took off jogging around the goat barn to where a big pond with a small, man-made, stone water feature babbled gently in the corner.Various aquatic plants filled the murky water.The ducks continued to go crazy with their quacking, and now we all knew why.Even the big white goose was honking and flapping its wings like a Karen at the customer service desk asking to see the manager.
A donkey—I guessed Piñata—was standing in the water at one end of the pond, and I could have sworn that guy was smiling.
“Piñata?”Sam asked.
“Si,” Tom sighed.
Portia followed him as he trekked over to Piñata, shooing the ducks and goose away.Not bothering to take off his shoes, or hesitating for even a second, he walked right into the pond and started to push the donkey out of the water.Only, that thing must have had some horse in it somewhere because it was mule-level stubborn and instead, started to back talk Tom.
Piñata was full-onhee-hawingat Tom as Tom attempted to remove the menace from the duck pond while the ducks continued to quack in protest and the goose seemed like it was going to have a heart attack from the stress of it all.Portia stood back a little on the shore, one of the ducks right next to her, the two of them watching the chaos unfold.
“I shouldn’t laugh,” I said, smothering my mouth with my hand.“I shouldn’t laugh.”
My daughter giggled beside me.“This is hilarious though.”
“It is.”
“Should we help him?”
I glanced at her.“What would we do?Help him move the donkey?”
