HIDDEN ASSETS

You don’t have to be a depressed Democrat to get the warm fuzzies from a therapy mini-donkey

DOLORES Kavanagh sits in the bright outdoor courtyard of her nursing home, entranced by her visitor for the day.

“Oh, do you want to come to my room?” she says to him in a singsong voice. “I don’t think they’d like that.”

Kavanagh, 84, strokes Stomper the miniature donkey’s nose and looks into his big brown eyes. To a human visitor, she says: “I’ve only seen donkeys in the movies. I am so surprised; they are so beautiful.”

We’re enjoying a sunny fall afternoon at the New York State Veterans’ Home in Montrose. Stomper bows his head as Cavanagh scratches him while Romper munches on some hay.

“This is so unique to me. How do I explain this to all my friends?” Kavanagh says. “You have to see it to believe it.”

Romper and Stomper, along with their pals Dakota, a micro-mini donkey who at 150 pounds looks like a giant dog, and her momma, Indy Anna, have travelled some 50 miles south from their home in Ulster Park, NY.

They belong to Steve Stiert, a former IBM software engineer who for the last several years has devoted his life to raising miniature donkeys and sharing them with nursing homes and schools.

“I wanted to do something meaningful and contribute in a positive way,” says Stiert.

Dogs are commonly used as therapy pets, visiting nursing homes to reduce loneliness and bring joy. But donkeys?

Katie Kourakos, director of recreation for the veterans home, was also intrigued after listening to a radio interview with Stiert as she drove into work one day.

“He referred to them as therapy donkeys. I’m always looking for other types of animals to bring in since different animals get different types of responses,” recalls Kourakos.

Currently a standard poodle comes in once a week, as does a tiny Yorkie who sits on resi-

dents’ laps. “It’s a great experience all around for residents and staff too,” says Kourakos.

When you are petting a dog, it releases oxytocin, the bonding hormone, and the dog responds to you. But the donkeys’ visit initially caused a lot of confusion.

“When we told people that donkeys were coming, they gave us a bewildered look like, ‘Donkeys? Really? ” says Kourakos.

“The average age of residents here is 86, and I think they associate donkeys with farm animals, work animals,” Kourakos says. “They weren’t used to seeing a donkey in the therapy realm.”

But the residents and staff of the 252-bed facility took to the gentle creatures right away. Over two dozen residents in wheelchairs sat in the courtyard for hours, smiling and chatting and petting the creatures. “Are they stubborn?” Kavanagh asks Stiert. “Donkeys worry about their safety and think for themselves. That’s how they get the reputation of being stubborn,” he says. “They are a lot like cats.”

When resident Patricia D’Aliso, 86, of Monroe, heard that donkeys were arriving for a visit, she didn’t think they’d hold the same ap- peal for her as a dog or cat. At least not until she met Stomper, who nuzzles his nose into D’Aliso. She pets his head and leans in to kiss him. “How do you feel?” she asks.

“Seeing that he relates a little bit to me makes me think differently,” she says to a visitor. “Like we have a relationship.”

D’Aliso gives Stomper another kiss. “This,” she says, “has been an amazing experience.”

A few days after the visit, when one of the residents is shown a picture of himself with one of the donkeys, he remains in awe.

“I know that there is a God because of these beautiful creatures,” he says.