A few days ago, a bit of half-hearted barking by
Fitzroy informed me that something slightly irregular was happening at Gamone. When I rushed downstairs, I discovered that we had received the visit, for the first time ever, of my neighbor's five donkeys. Fitzroy's barking only appeared, of course, to be half-hearted. The truth of the matter was that my dog was in total control of the situation. I would imagine that, in Fitzroy's mind, this meant that the donkeys were grazing contentedly, and gave no signs of attempting to enter my house. So, in a canine sense, all was more-or-less in order. During the minute or so that it took me to race back upstairs to phone my neighbor, the donkeys had moved down the road. By the time that
Jackie appeared on the scene, his animals had discovered the nice patch of green fodder alongside
Madeleine's place. Jackie borrowed a rope from his aunt and had no trouble leading the matriarchal donkey, followed by the others, back up to my place... where my own donkeys,
Moshé and
Fanette, looked down with curiosity upon all the movement.
[Click to enlarge]
With so many donkeys now present at Gamone (count me, if you so insist, in their numbers), I've often suggested to Jackie that we should set up some kind of a business. If and when my son
François finds time to visit me one of these days, now that his huge TV series of moped shows is finished (the production, but not the airing), I'll ask him for advice in the spirit of the story of the writer
Robert Louis Stevenson [1850-1894], author of
Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes, evoked in one of my son's excellent travelogues [
display].
Otherwise, Jackie and I might look into the idea of bringing our donkeys up to a cabaret level, like the smart donkeys of
Emilienne d'Alençon [1869-1946], who performed at the
Casino de Paris.
Besides presenting her donkeys, Emilienne was quite a talented young lady, generally described in French as a
courtisane. This term (for which I can find no good English equivalent) designated an attractive female who had succeeded in imagining elegant ways of marketing her charms in the context of distinguished and wealthy admirers such as the
Duke of Crussol d'Uzès,
King Léopold II of Belgium and the jockey
Percy Woodland. Even an aging donkey such as me could surely be infatuated by the splendor of such a trainer.
Of a sexually ecumenical disposition, Emilienne got on well with the famous model of
Toulouse-Lautrec known as
La Goulue [1866-1929].
Emilienne also got involved with a British lesbian poetess who called herself
Renée Vivien [1877-1909] and wrote in French.
Nicknamed
Sappho 1900, Renée died in a suicidal atmosphere at the tender age of 32, in the purest of depressive romantic traditions.
Talking about smart donkeys (as we once were), I happen to possess a remarkable but little-known bible on donkey wisdom (a precious gift from
Christine) written by
Victor Hugo.
Naturally, before making plans about their future education, prior to some kind of music-hall show, I asked my donkeys for their opinion on this project. Moshé seemed to like the idea, but Fanette reacted surprisingly (she's a young female) in a strictly negative manner.
I've told my neighbor that I would be happy to go ahead with some kind of a project aimed at bringing our donkeys up to a music-hall level.
We both agree however (at the risk of appearing as old-fashioned male sexists) that it would be unwise for the donkeys and us to get involved in any kind of fragile business context with romantic lesbian dancers and suicidal female poets, no matter how enticing they might appear.
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