Good Bye To My Don

Let’s be honest—saying goodbye to a beloved pet is basically the universe’s cruelest practical joke. My best friend, a donkey named Don, recently trotted off to the great pasture in the sky. And let me tell you, this wasn’t just any donkey.

The Don Who Thought He Was a Dog

Don arrived in my life as a rescue, all floppy ears and zero sense of personal space. He honestly believed he was a golden retriever trapped in a donkey’s body. He’d run up to me, braying like a broken foghorn, and demand head scratches until my arm went numb.

Surprising fact: donkeys are incredibly smart—smarter than dogs in loyalty tests. Don once outsmarted a fence that took me three hours to build. He just stared at it, sighed dramatically, then pushed the gate open with his nose.

I called him “my furry existential crisis.” He’d stand in the rain, staring at a wall, and I swear he was pondering the meaning of hay. He had the emotional range of a grumpy teenager, but the heart of a philosopher.

That Stubborn Myth Is Total Baloney

People think donkeys are stubborn. Nope. They’re just safety-obsessed geniuses. If Don stopped walking, it was because he detected a dip in the ground I hadn’t noticed. He once refused to cross a puddle, and I laughed at him—until I slipped and face-planted into it.

Fun fact: donkeys can actually lower their heart rate when scared, making them calm under pressure. Don used this superpower to sabotage my plans. I’d be late for work, he’d plant his hooves, and I’d be late explaining to my boss that my donkey was on a philosophical strike.

His favorite hobby was escaping to the neighbors’ house just to eat their roses. He’d return with a smug look, petals stuck to his lips, like a donkey detective solving an unnecessary crime.

The Last Goodbye Was a Melodrama

When Don got old, he developed arthritis and a world-weary attitude. He’d look at me like, “Oh, you’re still here? Cool. Fetch me some hay, peasant.” The last week of his life, he spent hours just standing under the oak tree, as if memorizing the view.

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In a hilarious twist, he chose his final moment during a thunderstorm—because of course he did. There was dramatic lightning, a clap of thunder, and then Don just laid down and sighed. He timed his exit like a rock star on a farewell tour.

I cried so hard my neighbor ran over with a fire extinguisher, thinking I was on fire. “No,” I sobbed, “I’m just emotionally combusting.” She patted my back and said, “At least he died knowing he was loved… and annoying.”

What Don Taught Me (Besides Patience)

Don taught me that stubbornness is just unshakable conviction. He never compromised on his principles—like refusing to walk on wet grass because it was “icky.” I now apply this to my own life: I no longer walk on wet grass either, unless there’s cake.

He also taught me that braying loudly is a valid form of communication. When I’m overwhelmed, I now scream into a pillow. It’s not as musical as Don’s bray, but it’s equally cathartic.

Surprising fact: a donkey’s bray can be heard from over 60 miles away in the desert. Don’s was heard by my entire zip code, plus a confused UPS driver who asked if I had a dinosaur.

Goodbye Friend Message

The Weirdest Grief Ever

After Don passed, I found his favorite chew toy—a rubber tire he’d dragged around for years. I kept it. It sits on my desk now, smelling faintly of grass and existential despair. It’s oddly comforting.

Friends say, “You’ll get another donkey.” No. That’s like saying you’ll replace a best friend with a penguin. Don was one of a kind—a creature who once ate my hat, then tried to wear it.

In his honor, I now walk with a slight swagger of defiance. If I don’t want to do something, I just stop moving like he did. It’s surprisingly effective in grocery store lines. People get really uncomfortable.

Final Thoughts (With Snacks)

Goodbye, Don. You were a donkey who made me laugh until I snorted, and cry until I hiccupped. You were floppy-eared chaos with a side of dignity.

If there’s an afterlife, I hope you’re eating all the roses you want. And if you see a fence, just open it with your nose. You earned that, buddy.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go bray at the moon. It’s what he would have wanted.