110. Maximum security

In yet another desperate bid for freedom, Gus has pushed several boards right out of his stall door.  These are thick oak boards, screwed into an iron casing at the top.  No more:  the screws are twisted or missing, the top casing and another iron strap are bent, the boards are splattered into the barn aisle . . .  What looks like ground zero of a bomb blast is in fact the result of one medium-sized, middle-aged donkey using his shoulder and chest as a battering ram.  Impressive.

Sandy manages to get the boards pretty much back in place, adds a strip of scrap lumber as a cross-rail, and shores up the bottom of the doorway.  When I tell a horse-owning friend about this latest breakout, she offers up her very handy husband and his vast array of tools and building materials.  He scopes out the damage, realigns the boards so the edges lock tightly again, drills new screwholes into the iron casing, and inserts longer, stronger screws.  After he sleeps on it, he arranges to come back a second time, to add even more reinforcements top, bottom, and middle.  Now we all have a good amount of time, ego, and reputation invested in something that we know Gus will do his best to trample into the dirt.  We wait.  Days pass and the door is still standing.  Can it be?

The latest report from Sandy is that Gus doesn’t even bother to test that door anymore.  After a long losing streak, a small victory:  humans 1, donkey 0.