I would like to share this story that was told to me by a work mate, an old Irishman named Charley who recently decided to share his knowledge of donkeys with me, while we were sitting in a hut drinking tea one morning, waiting for the rain to stop.
He told me a tale of an Irishman back home named McCormack who had bought a donkey from three monks at a local monastery because it was approaching old age. McCormack only needed it for carrying a bit of peat and fetching some shopping from town.
The monks had been very concerned for the future of this donkey as it had served them faithfully. Apparently it had worked diligently at the monastery for many years but did however have one peculiarity. McCormack was told that the monks never worked past six in the evening; as soon as the monastery bells rang they would drop everything, and head for Mass. When the monks stopped, the donkey stopped, lowering his back legs and seating himself on his haunches, like a human.
McCormack had been told all this and he treated the donkey well, never pushing him too hard. One day the old man wished to go into town with his cart to shop for himself and a few neighbours. All went well, his donkey enjoyed the gentle trip to town and the shopping was soon done. On their leisurely way home, McCormack met a neighbour and chatting away, time passed.
Again McCormack set off, his newly acquired donkey effortlessly pulling the cart. But one mile from home, it lowered its backside and sat down quite upright in the middle of the road. McCormack tried much prompting and cajoling, but his donkey simply refused to move. It was six o’clock exactly. He had to unshackle the cart and pull it the last mile himself, leaving his donkey sitting studiously by the roadside quite unaware that anything was wrong.
I was told that the next morning the donkey was waiting for his breakfast at the back of McCormack’s house. And he would never work on his birthday either, but took the day off!
Kevin Nolan