The hot sun beat down on the donkey. He curled up under a tree and took a siesta. When he woke up later in the afternoon, he stood and stretched. “It is very quiet today in the town. Where are all the children? They are usually noisy and disturb my sleep.”

Pablo walked down the main street. He stuck his head in the buildings. “Where is everyone? Is there a grand party in the town square?” Listening carefully, Pablo still couldn't hear any noises. The main street was deserted. “Oh my. I'm all alone in the town.” He hung his head down and wandered from door to door. “Today is my birthday. I was hoping there was going to be a grand party, a birthday party for me. Nobody remembered. Nobody cares about donkeys.

A breeze blew through the trees, shaking the leaves and rustling the branches together. Senor Pecos often fixed tortillas for Pablo. Pablo could eat a dozen. In return, Pablo carried Senor Pecos home at night. “I wonder if Senor Pecos is at his shop?” The donkey walked down the street toward the tortilla shop. “Maybe he will need a ride home tonight.”

When Pablo stuck his head inside Senor Pecos door, he saw the shop was empty. There were no tortillas on the table waiting for him. “Where is everyone? Even Senor Pecos forgot it was my birthday.”

Pablo came to the steps that led down to the town square. “I shall go to the fountain and wait. Maybe the townspeople are all taking long siestas today.” Down he went, one step at a time. He sauntered to the fountain and looked at his reflection in the water.

“Happy birthday, Pablo!”

Pablo's long ears stuck up in the air. “What was that?” He turned around. All the townspeople stood beside him.

“Did you think we'd forget our favorite donkey's birthday?”

“Happy birthday, Pablo.” Shouts rang out, filling the air with cheers and oles.

They feasted on cake and caramel flan and custards and Pablo got to eat all the tortillas he wanted. “This is the best birthday I've ever had,” Pablo said and then he ate another tortilla.