Henry’s Hilarious Homecoming!
When Henry Boggs makes an entrance, it’s never ordinary. You’d think a donkey coming home after a day out in the pasture would be uneventful—a little hay, a few stretches, maybe a nap. But not Henry. His homecoming last night had all the drama, comedy, and pure ridiculousness of a full-blown parade, complete with chaos, clumsy moves, and plenty of laughs.
It began at sundown, when the golden light draped the farm in its usual calm. The goats were already tucked in, the chickens were gossiping on their roosts, and the ducks were waddling back to the pond for one last splash. Just when the farm seemed ready to wind down, here came Henry, strutting up the lane like he was the star of a Broadway show making a grand finale.
From the very first bray, everyone knew this was no simple return. Henry announced himself with a sound so loud it startled the cows three fields over. He wasn’t just saying hello—he was saying, “Your king has arrived!” His ears perked, his tail swished, and he trotted with the kind of exaggerated swagger you only see in someone who knows they’re the center of attention.
But then, Henry being Henry, things quickly turned hilarious. On his way through the gate, he somehow managed to get his head stuck in the feed bucket left on the fence. Instead of panicking, he just kept walking—bucket and all—like it was part of his costume. The goats snorted in laughter (yes, goats can laugh), and the chickens nearly fell off the roost trying to get a better view.
Once the humans finally freed him, Henry wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest. Oh no. He turned his little mishap into a performance, prancing in circles like he had meant to do it all along. He gave the barnyard a show, complete with dramatic brays that echoed into the night.
And then came the real showstopper: Henry’s celebratory roll in the dirt. He flopped down with a grunt, kicked his legs in the air, and rolled with such enthusiasm that dust clouds billowed like fireworks. By the time he got up, he looked less like the majestic star of the Funny Farm and more like a walking dust mop with ears. Still, his grin (yes, donkeys grin) told us he couldn’t have been happier.
The best part, though, was his reunion tour. Henry made the rounds, greeting every animal one by one as if he’d been gone for months rather than hours. He nudged the goats, brayed at the ducks, and stood nose-to-nose with the chickens, who clucked back in confusion. Finally, he sauntered over to the farmhouse porch, where he let out one last bray—his way of saying, “I’m home, and you’re welcome.”
By the end of the night, everyone on the farm was still chuckling. Henry doesn’t just return home—he makes a spectacle out of it, leaving behind laughter, chaos, and a story that will be told again and again.
Henry’s homecoming wasn’t graceful, it wasn’t quiet, and it certainly wasn’t normal—but it was unforgettable. And really, isn’t that exactly what we’ve come to expect from him?
