A Donkey at Our Door: How One Uninvited Guest Became a Beloved Family Member
When my family moved to Jerusalem for a year, we thought that our lives were about to take a dramatic turn. Little did we know that an unexpected arrival would soon become the most unforgettable pet in our household.
The story of Cocolo, our brown and adorable donkey, began on a typical Sunday afternoon when my mum chatted with the doorman at the American Colony hotel, where we often went for buffet lunches. The conversation sparked something in her – she had always wanted a donkey! Fast forward a few days, and to our utter shock, there was another knock on the door. A man with a donkey appeared, claiming that my mum had accidentally ordered him. She couldn't deny it, so we welcomed Cocolo into our lives.
At first, having a donkey as a pet seemed like an amusing idea. We called him Cocolo after a children's book by Bettina Ehrlich, and he quickly won over our hearts with his endearing ears. Our elder sister, Sophy, and I were thrilled to have a new mode of transport for the school run, despite the busy road that posed a risk of accidents.
However, things took a turn when our classmates began to tease us about being dropped off on Cocolo instead of the family Volvo. It was an embarrassing situation, but we didn't care – Cocolo had stolen our hearts. Despite his stubborn nature, he proved to be a good-natured donkey, though sometimes lonely and frightened at night.
As much as we loved having Cocolo around, life in Jerusalem with a donkey became increasingly challenging for our neighbors. They couldn't understand why we were being driven to school on an animal instead of the usual car.
Eventually, after several months, Cocolo was banished to a farm in the West Bank. We would visit him at weekends, but I could sense that he never fully forgave us for sending him away. He seemed to carry out his duties more out of obligation than love. The final straw came when he reared up in response to a sudden noise, throwing my sister and me to the ground.
Mum took Cocolo back to the livestock market outside Damascus Gate, where she sold him to a kind-hearted milkman who needed a donkey for his rural deliveries. Though we were relieved to be rid of the hassle, I still use it as an excuse to tease my mum about taking us to school on a donkey – a guilt-trip that brings a smile to her face even years later.
Looking back, Cocolo's arrival may have been unexpected, but he became an integral part of our family. We learned to appreciate the value of living life on our own terms and embracing the quirks that make us unique. And although we'll never forget Cocolo, his memory serves as a reminder of the power of love, acceptance, and a good dose of humor.
When my family moved to Jerusalem for a year, we thought that our lives were about to take a dramatic turn. Little did we know that an unexpected arrival would soon become the most unforgettable pet in our household.
The story of Cocolo, our brown and adorable donkey, began on a typical Sunday afternoon when my mum chatted with the doorman at the American Colony hotel, where we often went for buffet lunches. The conversation sparked something in her – she had always wanted a donkey! Fast forward a few days, and to our utter shock, there was another knock on the door. A man with a donkey appeared, claiming that my mum had accidentally ordered him. She couldn't deny it, so we welcomed Cocolo into our lives.
At first, having a donkey as a pet seemed like an amusing idea. We called him Cocolo after a children's book by Bettina Ehrlich, and he quickly won over our hearts with his endearing ears. Our elder sister, Sophy, and I were thrilled to have a new mode of transport for the school run, despite the busy road that posed a risk of accidents.
However, things took a turn when our classmates began to tease us about being dropped off on Cocolo instead of the family Volvo. It was an embarrassing situation, but we didn't care – Cocolo had stolen our hearts. Despite his stubborn nature, he proved to be a good-natured donkey, though sometimes lonely and frightened at night.
As much as we loved having Cocolo around, life in Jerusalem with a donkey became increasingly challenging for our neighbors. They couldn't understand why we were being driven to school on an animal instead of the usual car.
Eventually, after several months, Cocolo was banished to a farm in the West Bank. We would visit him at weekends, but I could sense that he never fully forgave us for sending him away. He seemed to carry out his duties more out of obligation than love. The final straw came when he reared up in response to a sudden noise, throwing my sister and me to the ground.
Mum took Cocolo back to the livestock market outside Damascus Gate, where she sold him to a kind-hearted milkman who needed a donkey for his rural deliveries. Though we were relieved to be rid of the hassle, I still use it as an excuse to tease my mum about taking us to school on a donkey – a guilt-trip that brings a smile to her face even years later.
Looking back, Cocolo's arrival may have been unexpected, but he became an integral part of our family. We learned to appreciate the value of living life on our own terms and embracing the quirks that make us unique. And although we'll never forget Cocolo, his memory serves as a reminder of the power of love, acceptance, and a good dose of humor.