Asinine Behavior

Last summer a Brazilian farmer named Osório Fernandes took his don key Pelé with him to town. In the marketplace of Venceslau Guimarâes, a small boy began tormenting Pelé with a stick, and the donkey struck back—killing the boy with a kick in the head. Police Chief Emiliano Gonçalves had the farmer arrested, but Fernandes wept so profusely in his jail cell that Gonçalves changed his mind and locked up the donkey instead. The charge against the animal: murder. Osório Fernandes angrily leveled a charge of his own against the police chief: "He has been anti-donkey ever since the day he left his office door open and a donkey wandered in and ate all his papers, including his marriage license."

Anti-donkey or not, Chief Gonçalves mulishly insisted that the donkey was dangerous and had to be kept behind bars, despite Farmer Fernandes' pleas that the animal had only kicked in self-defense. Months passed. The other prisoners, being human, had protested that the donkey stank; even worse, it brayed all night. The prison cook complained because he had to prepare special meals for the donkey. The jailer, grumbling that cleaning up the animal's cell had doubled his work, threatened to go on strike unless he got extra pay.

Last week, to the great relief of jailers and prisoners, Pelé was back on Fernandes' farm. In Salvador, the state capital, the state security secretary, hearing of the case, had sent the police chief a telegram curtly informing him that "the donkey has served his sentence," even though he had never been tried, and ordering his release.