A Zimbabwean donkey named Lucky part five – Lucky reunites

Hello and welcome to part five of my story!

Love, food and water saw my strength return and my wounds heal. I was feeling like my old self again, though I missed mum so much. I wasn’t sure what the future held, until one morning my master arrived and told me it was time to go home.

I felt incredibly sad to be leaving the lady and man who had been so kind to me. As my owner and I walked down the dusty road I kept stopping to look back. They stood with tears rolling down their cheeks, waving to me. I knew how they felt for I cried every day after losing mum.

We arrived home and I settled back into my life, but so much had happened. I had become a celebrity and all the people in nearby villages knew who I was. Often passers by would stop to pat my neck, hoping it would bring them good luck!

My owner kept me close, cutting grass, collecting seed pods, and going to the well to get water. Before long a strong and beautiful friendship had developed between us. He would talk to me about his life, and it was comforting to have his company. Each day he’d brush me, clean my hooves and wipe the dust from my eyes. I was grateful to the lady and man for teaching him to do this!

My owner was so proud when we walked past anyone on the road, people would stop to talk to us and of course pat my neck! It was new to me to experience a village person pat a donkey.

I must say we made a stunning pair! My coat all shiny from being groomed and my
owner walking proudly by my side. I was definitely the biggest donkey in the world, a world which stretched to a few miles in each direction from the village. I liked it this way – I’d seen what lay beyond when those bad men had taken me and it was safer not to venture far.

Because I was my master’s only donkey I had to work twice as hard to keep up with everything. Days became longer because of this and there was little time to do nothing.

Before long it started to get colder, and my hair thickened to help me stay warm at night. My master and I spent our spare time collecting wood for the winter pile next to the house, which would ensure he could cook and stay warm.

The sun set earlier, and evenings saw the sky transform. It was as though it was on fire with flames of orange and red. It scared me a little – I didn’t understand how it shifted so suddenly from clear blue to this. Then all of a sudden it would be dark, and soft moonlight spilt over the land. I’d stand close to the warm fire, grateful for it’s heat, and be comforted by the sound of my master’s voice as he spoke with other villagers. My mind would wander back to mum, and to the kind lady and man who had saved me.

A feeling of comfort spread through me when I thought of how they were helping other donkeys by teaching their owners how to care for them.