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
“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.