I’m not one for long goodbyes, but that does not make sudden ones any more preferable. I’ve always felt a solemn respect for the Memorial Day holiday, because of family, friends, community members, and a nation of those in uniform who have passed during their time in service to the rest of us. Now I have another reminder, even closer to home, from a friend who has been of great service to us for seventeen years. It’s the crack of dawn phone call you never want to get from an animal sitter, both because of the news, and because that caretaker had to be the one to share it.
Josie had passed away sometime in the early morning. I was just away for an overnight visiting family, and I had to get home right away to deal with arrangements. During that drive, it occurred to me amid the sadness, how fortunate we’ve been to have her with us for as long as we have.
Josie helping me with a photo shoot.
Josie was nineteen, which is relatively middle age for a well kept donkey. We’ve known for quite some time that she had irregular and arrhythmic cardiac patterns. Because of that she has never been worked or ridden, which is the kind of life that drastically reduces a donkey’s age span in the underdeveloped parts of the world, where their service is so heavily pressed upon. Her only responsibilities to us were to mow grass and keep her buddy Mojo company. And we knew that some day, this day would come.
She may have had heart issues, but the giving and receiving of love was not among them. Shy and a bit cagey around people at first, once she knew she could trust someone, her affections flowed sweet and kind and gentle. Our neighbor Robert, who had to make the terrible call to me, was the one exception. He’s also a kind and gentle soul, retired and in his late seventies, who Josie took a liking to immediately when we first moved into this neighborhood several years ago. He and his daughter have been our solid backup ever since then. He was there to help me with the brutal task of burying her, and to share tears for her.
Josie was far quicker to befriend the wild animals that lived around her; the mice and chipmunks that ran through the barn, the woodchuck that feeds in the pasture, deer passing through on their way to the river, and the birds nesting in the thicket along the fence line. For a couple of years, there was a cat bird family that used her as a babysitter for their young. Mother bird would leave her fledglings in Josie’s proximity and they would follow the donkey around while mama was hunting bugs. At times, one or two of them would be sitting up on her back end, and it looked like some kind of north country safari.
As much fun as it was to watch her relate with these other creatures, it was a much greater lesson to see what she was looking at, and to realize what an astute observer of nature she was. Early on we thought maybe she was just kind of slow and simple, because she would often be gazing into what seemed like empty space, while her buddy roamed and frolicked. Then we realized that if we stood quietly by Josie and followed her line of sight, fascinating processes would be revealed. Ants carrying their eggs to a new home. Bumble bees transiting the door of their hive. Birds feeding their babies in the nests.
I chose to use this space to eulogize her because, while not a wine drinker herself, she has played a role in a few of our adventures, in video and images. Last autumn the donkeys joined me for a sampling of Donkey & Goat Syrah, and Josie goes from supporting character to video bomber. When I tested out the Copa di Vino, Josie and Mojo made a cameo gallop appearance. They also helped me out when I was trying to win a Wines of Chile Photo contest. I really had hoped we would do more together.
Losing Josie so quickly was shocking, yet it was somehow moderated by the fact that the issue of close ones passing-on, had been on my mind as of late. A good wine friend, Meg Maker, recently had to say goodbye to her dear cat Rhubarb, and wrote a deeply touching piece about the cycle of life and her feline friends. It made me recall and re-read the essay I wrote about our girl dog Mitchell, one which the New York Cork Report did me the great honor of publishing for her.
It does not matter what our motivations are for adopting animals into our lives, whether it be for the simple companionship they provide or the deep well of unconditional love that they share…the choice changes us, for the better. Relationships with animals can allow us to see ourselves in a clear, reflective way that is often less accessible in the culture and code laden interactions that we have with people in our daily travels. Despite knowing that we will most likely outlive our animal companions, and only really understanding that truth at the time of their passing, we choose it because the experience enriches our lives and theirs, immeasurably.
“The greatness of a nation and its moral progress
can be judged by the way its animals are treated”
– Mahatma Gandhi