DAILY TAIL WORLD EXCLUSIVE: Kaïcha Invites Us Into Her Gracious Stable
Kaïsha as you’ve never seen her before. Vulnerable. Intimate. Badass.
Hello! The Daily Tail felt so privileged when Kaïsha agreed to share her most private thoughts with us, from the comfort of her own field. In a Tell-Tail Exclusive, world-renowned donkey, Kaïsha, shares with us her deepest secrets and heart’s desires.
Two Legs Good. Four Legs Better
Probably Kaïsha’s best features are her long, slender legs, culminating in four magnificent Pyrenean hooves. There’s a reason the boys call her Naomi. “I’ve always felt I deserve the best farrier in town” she confides. “You can’t carry someone else’s baggage with grace, unless you have the right shoes”.
Her custom-made sparklers are oh so elegant, but she will not reveal her craftsman’s identity. “When I’m back in Monastier, I want my shoes to be his number one priority”, she snorts, before spreading her hind-quarters, and taking a giant, lime-green piss all over them.
Down In The Dirt
“The most intimate place in my field is the dust pit”, Kaïsha confides. She allows us a glimpse, and we can confirm it’s of the finest Italian volcanic rock. “I just love a good roll in dirt on a hot day”, she continues. “Not to mention getting rid of the Tickerazzi who are the bane of any startlet’s life.”
After a quick munch on bine-weed, she continues. “Who cares if my dumb-animal human companion would rather I not roll in dirt when we’re on the road, squashing all of his precious gear? His baggage is his baggage, as far as I’m concerned”
Already 17 and no longer in the first bloom of youth, Kaïsha cares more and more for comfort. Today, she has opted for a burnt-red halter, clearly well worn, which gives her the support she needs. “As an asinus africanus”, she says, “I’m simply not interested in the dog and pony show of glamour, for glamour’s sake”.
It is this willingness to bear her whole self that has made Kaïsha such an icon for new donkey generations. She takes no heed of the celebrity fuss and just keeps on, plodding onwards.
Water Of Life
We decide to take a break, and Kaïsha very kindly allows us partake in some fresh-flowing water from her personal trough. “We donkeys don’t go to church”, she intones, “But that’s not to say we don’t have our sacred moments”.
In a shocking peek into her vulnerability, we witness the real Kaïsha – stooping to drink her water with such peace and flow, that even we are moved to philosophise on the meaning of life. Only we know our readers want sex and scandal, so we’ll leave it there.
Toy Boy Heartbreak
“Love is a complicated cereal bar”, she comments, languidly, making reference to donkeys’ favourite treat.
Kaïsha is now sitting on a bar stool, in the kitchen, two legs crossed, the other two nursing a mug of malted milk. She eases forward, conspiratorially, and elaborates.
“Love is sticky, appealing, and delicious – but it’s never quite as satisfying as the promise on the package”.
She’s been seen out on the paddock with a young Provençal buck, with a tattooed cross on his back. “Polaris and I are not a thing”, she continues, denying rumours that she’s seeing a direct descendant of the Biblical donkey who completed a harrowing journey to Bethlehem during the census of 5BC. “He’s a good friend, and his stardom fills a gap”.
Pain In The Ass
“Well, he’s not the worst, I suppose” says Kaïsha, broodingly.
She has been outspoken for some time on what she calls the ‘original sin of donkeys’ – that time 6,000 years ago when they agreed to submit to human beings, and agreed to carry their load. “It was about survival at the time”, she mumbles, with a hint of uncharacteristic anger, but refuses to be drawn on the detail.
“Let’s just say this”, she says. “He’s doing his best. He kills horseflies with some precision, and since Day 5 we’ve stopped losing our way and wasting my time”.
Regarding her human’s unaccountable instinct to make progress, she has this to say. “That’s Man’s downfall, but there’s little one donkey can do. I see so many wound-up messes who walk with me, and who think it’s about arriving on time, so they can impress their friends”.
She is now inspecting her new French hoof nails, taking advantage of the golden hour to convince herself that an average job is actually rather good…
“They’ll eventually see the value in weeds by the roadside, in not leaving until everyone else is ready, and in taking absolutely everything at a leisurely stroll…”
Finally, because it did not seem polite to do so before, Kaïsha takes a massive dump as we’re finishing up, and the photographer is putting away his lighting equipment.
There’s no shit like Kaisha’s shit, and we tell her so.
Such magnificent, even texture (“You can thank the superior barley for that”, she comments), and such a glorious, pungent, waves-of-nausea stink!
“Why thank you”, she replies, not insensible to the compliment. “It’s the least I can do for journalists of your calibre”.