Last night when Corey got home, we had the fire for Happy. I had already petted his head and spoken to him while he was still warm, and we gave him water and grain. We clipped small pieces of his mane and tail to put on the altar as well. While Corey stacked the wood around his body, I was inside praying and asking Vesta to look after him for me. I waited until the fire went down a little before I went out, because I get a little nervous when the bonfires are very tall. I brought Happy an apple and threw it in, and then took a picture.

Call me crazy--and I have not altered this photo at all--but I can see his face looking right back at me through the flames, one ear of smoke and one ear of fire.



Anyway, things are a little easier today. I've noticed that since I'm no longer worried about him, I've been cleaning the house and doing the laundry that piled up on me over the weekend.

If there's one lesson I can learn from my sweet little donkey it is to hang tough. So, that is my mantra for the week, let's see if there is wisdom in that for me.

We have to put Happy down. The vet is pretty positive that his intestines are twisted, there's nothing to b done.

I am inconsolable. I will miss his breathy bray and his white lips. I feel like I've not done all I could, even though I have. This is just horrible.

Happy, our donkey, appears to have colic. Prayers for the donkey please!