Paco, the Life and Times of a Dusty Donkey

This post will be photo-heavy!

There are times in one’s life when an old soul appears and settles in for an enduring friendship. In our life here at Leaping Lamb Farm, despite our farm name suggesting we only have sheep, the old soul was Paco, a shaggy Sicilian donkey who tended to channel Eeyore for effect.

Old souls are believed to have lived before. They are a déjà vu of past experiences seen worthy to repeat for their wisdom, their kindness, and even their character. They bring calmness to a chaotic world. However, old souls have stories and I want to tell you Paco’s, or at least the part we know.

It starts out with Craig*. Before Craig, we don’t really know anything of Paco’s history. How old he was. How he had been raised or treated. Really anything at all.

We met Craig the day he drove up our driveway asking for work and presenting us with a ‘widget’, a woven plant trellis made of willow. We hired him right off, before our farm even had a name. Construction paid the bills, but Craig’s real craft was in willow cuttings. From these, he made beautiful baskets and chairs.

Apparently, one day Craig saw a sign on the road for a free donkey. As the story goes, Craig envisioned using Paco as a model for his decorative pack baskets. He would sell these to all the rich people who had donkeys. That, and Craig was looking for a companion, or maybe just a drinking buddy.

We first met Paco standing quietly in the shadows behind a circle of chairs set around a fire. This was Craig’s patio area on a farm he had bought with his daughter and her family. His daughter lived in the house. Craig lived in one half of a manufactured home that had fallen off its trailer and been left on the side of the road. The road fronted the farm property, so it seemed like a win to Craig that he got his own place. Paco fit right in.

We envisioned years of working with Craig, sharing a beer, sitting around the fire, Paco always close by. Instead, Craig passed away unexpectedly, only two years later, as he was getting ready to head to our farm to work. We learned much later, Paco was left without a thought for the next year, mostly locked in a stall. He was the sorry reminder of a father-daughter relationship not yet repaired, something Craig had hoped the farm might do.

Paco’s rescue came in the form of our good-hearted, boisterous and friendly neighbor, Dave. He asked if we could give the donkey a place to stay just while he fixed up the fencing on his property. Overwhelmed with projects and livestock, we weren’t looking to add a donkey to our permanent flock of animals, but we could harbor a donkey for a little while.

Within a day of being asked, there was a donkey walking down our driveway with Dave at the lead. When asked how he had transported Paco, Dave smiled and said he had just loaded him in the back of his pickup. I didn’t know what to say. Paco seemed unfazed by the entire experience.

Now this is the part, where the old soul appeared. Like the cat that sits in the lap of the one person who doesn’t like cats, Paco walked right up to Greg and leaned on him. He continued through the weekends and the weeks to make sure he stood still for guests and their kids to brush and to hug. He took an Eeyore stance if the horses got too much attention. When it was apparent Dave had no intention of fixing any fences, it was also apparent Paco had found his new home and was quickly worming his way into every heart he touched. It should be noted, Greg caved at that very first encounter.

Paco became a beloved donkey over the next 15 years. He met people from all around the world who stayed here with us. Families took their photos with him and kids left him notes and pictures tacked to the refrigerator. He had a book written about him, Paco, the Dusty Donkey, and he graced the cover of another, Country Grit, wearing red boots and looking only slightly grumpy about it.

Paco was a fixture at Leaping Lamb Farm, identifiable out in pasture as the small, grey, shaggy animal set against the green of the Coast Range. If he played second fiddle to the horses sometimes, he wasn’t worried. He stood to be brushed and he pushed if he wasn’t, knowing all the time this was bad behavior, yet getting a pass because it was well intentioned, and it made people laugh.

Paco was laid to rest last week in the pasture over the Honey Grove Creek, between his equine friends Moralecia and Chaco. He was somewhere around 35 years old, an elder donkey in his own right. We did all we could for him medically until it seemed best to let the fight be over so he could be at peace and not have to try so hard to keep our hearts from breaking. We were with him to the end, whispering sweet nothings in his ears and stroking his cheeks. He died peacefully and bravely, our hands on him for comfort and a last connection in his life’s journey.

As old souls just find another place to land, I don’t think his has gone that far away yet. I picked flowers for his grave Friday, setting them in a canning jar in the newly dug earth. As I started to stand up, I toppled to the ground as if I had been pushed. There was no reason for the fall. It was a soft landing, but I had to laugh. Was Paco giving me one last push to say he really wasn’t going anywhere as long as I remembered him and could smile at his silly ways? That would be the wisdom of the old soul to teach us, “Remember me and I will always be in your heart.”

We may not imagine you running across the sky with the wind in your mane, but we will certainly see you rolling in the clouds.

Rest in peace, our dearest Paco.

*Craig is known as Jack in Country Grit.

A Gallery of Paco Pictures