When I was at Billie Creek Village we had a pair of females donkeys. Their names were Jenny and Jenny. Hey, don't look at me, I don't know who named them. They were "rescued" by the village owner from a farm where they were not being well cared for. It took awhile, but after some love and attention their coats and hooves eventually healed and they became lovely jennets again. Having been two of only a handful of remaining livestock on the property, they were pretty popular amongst the guests. The donkeys thrived on the attention. When a small child would approach the fence I would often see one bend its head down so the child could scratch behind its ears. They knew why they were there. It was as if they appreciated the care they were getting so they tried their best to entertain the guests. Each morning during chores, Jenny or Jenny, would give me a hug. Just a gentle head on my shoulder. Their way of saying thank you for feeding them. Needless to say I was smitten. Then the village closed. I never found out what happened to them.
So when Donkey-Otie arrived at Conner Prairie I decided I didn't want anything to do with him. Nope. Don't need no stinkin' donkey in my life.
Then I started working in ag full-time. Then I had to see him regularly to feed him. He chewed on my scarf a little that first day, I didn't care much for that. I kept my distance at first. I avoided eye contact. Then one morning, he hugged me, and I fell. I fell hard. He totally played me.