In the 1940's my grandfather Oscar lived near a small town in central Louisiana bordering the Kisatchie National Forest. To call it "rural" would be kind, but it provided him all the fishing, hunting and other simple pleasures he enjoyed. He harvested vegetables from his own garden, smoked meat in his smokehouse, and had many dogs and other farm animal like goats, chickens, pigs and a few milk cows. One day Oscar was offered a donkey at a very cheap price, and bought him. That's when things got interesting for Oscar, and even more so for his nearest neighbor, the Baptist church across the road. Every Sunday for as long as folks could remember Sunday services were held at the church, with joyous singing and fellowship among the good churchgoers. That was about to change, however.
On the first Sunday after Oscar brought the donkey home services started as usual at the church. The donkey, for reasons known only to himself, perhaps to join the fellowship in his own manner, started braying loudly as soon as the churchgoers began singing. Oscar, enraged at being deprived of his peace, stormed out of the house, grabbed a 2"x4" board, and began beating the donkey, demanding that he, "Shut up, you son of a bitch!", all of which only made the donkey bray more hysterically and loudly.
The combination of the donkey braying hysterically and Oscar screaming curses unnerved the congregation, but they carried on, hoping for the best. This pattern repeated itself every Sunday for a year- they'd sing, the donkey brayed, and Oscar went nuts, until finally the elders of the church begged Oscar to get rid of him. Oscar's absolute refusal to even consider this left them with only one choice, and they did it: they hired a company to literally move the church to another site they owned 5 miles away, just to be rid of Oscar and his donkey.
And that's a true story...