Edgar Rice Burro has another abscess. At least that’s what I hope because it’s the least terrible option. Chronic foot disease is the most common veterinary condition seen in geriatric donkeys. Of the possibilities, cross your fingers for an abscess. I’m suspicious because of the recurring quality of the lameness. Edgar is suspicious because it’s his normal state these days. He’s 82 in donkey years, old enough to know that he’s vulnerable. 

Not that Edgar is stubborn or nasty or even particularly contrary. His foot hurts. It has nothing to do with me at all. Except I need to doctor his foot. 

If you were looking for tips on YouTube, you might think trainers throw temper tantrums when they don’t get their way. I can remember being told my horse needed to be more afraid of me than anything else in his environment. It’s our predatory nature to think intimidation is the answer. I heard someone preaching the same old canard recently. They call it respect, but how could scaring a flight animal be smart? I smile because equines can no more understand the concept of respect than they can plan a summer vacation. I smile because fear-based trainers think trainers like me are only good for kissing noses and baby talk. That I don’t have the beans to get the real work done.

Edgar hobbles a few steps, barely putting the toe of his hoof down. His big ole head is low, and like all donkeys, he is stoic. By the time they show a hint of pain, you know it’s terrible. We could be siblings. I hide my pain and get impatient with commiseration. So, I get to business because it’s not about me, unless my emotions make it about me. Edgar has enough anxiety of his own.

Peaceful persistence is the name of the bean game here at Infinity Farm. It means I’m not aggressive. Not conceding. And not emotional. I’m going to describe how that applies to cleaning and dressing a very ouchy hoof on a donkey who was not born yesterday.

First, get everything together. Over-prepare. There will be no second trips. Stopping and starting is rude. Remember what it’s like to wait at the doctor’s office? I’ll get it right the first time, because this will be hard for Edgar. Now think about everything that could go wrong and double-check again.

Backstory: Edgar comes when I call his name, running with a slight limp. He is not a problem case. There were years when the vet got rough with him before I could step in and years when he was flawlessly well-behaved. It’s been a long road, Edgar would tell you, but we are partners. We rule by consensus. 

I get the halter out and he hurries away, with one flat tire, to the far corner. It’s a caution light. I follow slowly, give him a scratch and breathe. His nose is on the ground. He feels miserable. I bend over with the halter low. Just as I wiggle it under his muzzle, he bolts away as best he can. He’s hung up in the halter, so I let go because an accidental fight is still a fight. Besides, it’s the Mulligan. The first try never counts. 

One reason horses are easy to intimidate is that they have long necks. We can leverage them to our benefit. They’re easier to manhandle, although they are bigger than we are. Donkeys are lower to the ground, their necks are short and when they brace, physics is on their side. You might as well be trying to roll a giant cube of cement. And it’s worse if they’re afraid or under stress, like Edgar was feeling before I came out of the house. In a dire emergency, I might need to snug him to a post, but I’d still have to get the halter on first and Edgar knows it.

I try the halter again. This time, he bowls me over like an Abrams tank. It’s a natural defensive reaction to want to whack him with a rope. I’m no saint, but I know my emotions don’t matter. Instead, I exercise superhuman strength. I’m breathe and smile. It’s not personal. This is his answer. It might not be the one I want, but he’s being honest. I won’t cause more anxiety. But I won’t quit either. That wasn’t a hard no. We’re just talking. 

I slowly approach and scratch Edgar’s backside, remembering that some old dogs take to biting kids. I’m fine with that. Kids should learn that animals don’t exist to entertain them. And at a certain age, a dog should get to retire from being a good boy if they want. Call it elder privilege. Old bones make us all cranky. We should issue get-out-of-jail-free cards. Edgar has one.

I move to his shoulder with the halter and ask a third time. After a ridiculously long, feels-like-forever pause, he arcs his neck toward me and the halter glides on. Like I say. We’re just talking here. People always expect the worst. If we don’t get our way instantly, we ruin everything. Affirmative training is challenging because humans are born pessimists, just like equines. It takes huge, massive beans to be an optimist.

Edgar will need to be tied, a bit of control to stand for the soaking. After bringing my supply wagon into the pen, I hang a bucket of mush and loop the rope. But we don’t do things the hard way here. This ordinary meal is a special treat because he doesn’t have to share. As he slurps pain meds with his mush, I pull a plastic bag with warm water and Epson salts over his hoof and use an elastic baggage strap to hold it. I swish the water a bit. Edgar ignores me. 

It boils down to making a choice. Be a predator or a partner, but they will read it all in how we halter them. We announce ourselves and are judged in that moment. Before we get to the hard part, but if you do it right, there is no hard part. We’ll soak his hoof again tomorrow, but Edgar will remember he doesn’t have to share his mush.

In a few minutes, I pull the hoof out, dress it, and put a newborn-size diaper on his hoof. Then some vet wrap and tape, knowing he’ll have it off by morning. Edgar finished his mush a few minutes ago and is feeling companionable.

Anticlimactic, isn’t it? Any donkey will tell you that picking a fight is the sign of a lower intelligence. So is losing your temper. They refuse domination and think horses should do the same. But I’m no genius. I just stand around. I persist.

Edgar Rice Burro, stoic even with praise, says, “Little Ears, you’re stubborn as a donkey.” 

…

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