Welcome to Paisley Pastures

There wasn't much to do, these days. Not since Farmer Paisley had sold the majority of the farm and moved to the city with her son. Not that anyone could blame her. It wasn't exactly as if she had a choice, and it was even harder on her than any of the animals. Eighty-Six considered himself one of the lucky ones- one of two that got to stay, anyway. He was one of Farmer Paisley's oldest animals. It was a miracle of science his lifespan had been extended so long- one of the benefits to generations of selective breeding, he supposed. He'd watched Paisley's family grow up, and now, she promised, her granddaughter would come take care of them now. Becca, wasn't it? He hadn't seen her since she was a young tot. But if Becca was going to come in and turn this farm around... she must have grown into some kind of miracle worker!

Eighty-Six normally patrolled the Pastures' barnyard, but it was so quiet now, he couldn't bring himself to stay put. The only other creature left in Paisley Pastures, Lucille, tended to keep to her own devices as well. Instead, he moseyed alone through the valley, visiting the other farms. He was well known by the other farmers, and he knew them. Not much changed around here. In fact, he could confidently say he knew the valley and all its residents like the end of his nose.

"Ugh," huffed and puffed an unfamiliar human voice. Eighty-Six's ears twitched and swiveled, locating the source. A young woman was slouched over their neighbor's pasture railing, breathing heavily and grumbling to herself. He didn't recognize her, yet... there was something familiar about her scent. Curious, he plodded closer, and took a deep whiff of her frizzy hair. 

"GAH!" She whipped around and shouted. Apparently she hadn't been expecting to come face to face with a donkey. Eighty-Six squinted and looked her up and down more closely. Surely it couldn't be. "Oh, hello," the woman babbled, recovering from her shock quite quickly. "You wouldn't happen to know where Gram's farm is, do you?" Surely, it was. 

THIS was the granddaughter meant to save the farm? Maybe Eighty-Six was getting older and skeptical, but thus far she wasn't meeting his expectations. Not by a long shot. But... he took a step back to breathe. Regardless, she was family. His rightful new owner and heir to the farm. Maybe, he prayed, she would surprise them.

Glancing around, he noticed no new vehicles around. Did she walk all this way?? In any case, it seemed apparent to him that she needed transportation. Obligingly, he turned to allow her access to his back. He waited patiently but after almost a solid minute, she didn't seem to be getting it. He stole a peek back, and found Becca frozen mid tiptoe in an exaggerated sneaking pose. Did she... think he didn't notice? She wasn't creeping away though, but towards him. He opted not to think about it too long lest he get a headache. Rather, he settled for an eye roll and directed his gaze forward once more. Moments later, he heard her lunge, and land belly-first on his back, draped halfway across like a sack of potatoes. It became suddenly apparent Becca had never handled animals in her life. It was increasingly difficult to remain optimistic.

Becca flopped around a bit trying to adjust herself, but impatient, Eighty-Six started plodding forward. "Wait!" But if Eighty-Six kept waiting, they'd never make it home at this rate. She was just going to have to put up with the consequences of trying to vault-mount a donkey until they got home. And, admittedly, it was slow going. He couldn't run or even trot without dumping his cargo, so it was a slow walk the whole day. It was a humiliating sight for all involved. Eighty-Six just hoped they would luck out and remain unnoticed by other farmers.

By some stroke of luck, he got them home unseen by human eyes, though he'd gotten bizarre stares and Snickers from onlooking animals.