Our dear old donkey Mimosa died peacefully this afternoon. She slept her last hour away, warm under one of Mum’s blankets, and I am just back from the stable where she died. We let Arran in to the stable; he sniffed around her mouth and ears and looked a little quizzical, sniffed again and then moved very delicately around the body.
|Mimosa in the flower of old age|
That’s the second animal off in “l’altre barri” (the next-door district, in Catalan.) Blackie, guardian of the Croft and the son of Perla whom we inherited with the house, died a couple of weeks ago. We buried him under a rose bush at a point from which he often looked out, and one of the Crofters built a very fine chestnut bench next to the grave. Blackie was the head animal (including the human animals) here and we all miss his solid, sensible, guardian self. He was a lovely dog - a strong bark, a waggie tail and an addiction to having his tummy scratched.
|Blackie the Guardian (old softie)|