Mirage

I looked out the door this morning and beheld a desert paradise. There was sand as far as the eye could see, trees with Stud Muffins suspended from every branch, and low tables with all sorts of edibles. There was a small pond of cool water for drinking and a platoon of quiet, service-oriented humans to see to our every need. Handel's Water Music gently wafted through the air (I know - an ironic choice for a desert-loving donkey, but there you have it). I sighed deeply with the greatest pleasure and set my foot out the door...

I came to with a terrible jolt. Herself was peering at me over the stall guard and asking if I was feeling quite sane and telling me to get myself out the door. Tragically, it had all been but a dream. By mid-morning a raw day had turned into a hideous spring blizzard, complete with flying ice pellets and slushy snow. I huddled in a corner of the run-in for the day. Molly stomped in and out, never quite settling but managing to rouse me whenever I slipped into a reverie of escape.

Herself gave us extra tidbits in our dinners but we do not care for the new vitamin/mineral supplement she has put us on. She tries to disguise but it remains the elephant in the room. It is brown, gritty and odoriferous. I carefully seperate the powder and leave it discarded in the bottom of the bowl. It is causing the Woman considerable consternation so at least that is a bright spot in a bleak season. I want sugary, oaty, molassesy food, not something that came out of an abandoned mine shaft.