Brays of Our Lives: CAST OF CHARACTERS

Fenway Bartholomule's introduction to the citizens of Bent Barrow Farm:

#1—Fenway Bartholomule. I am the best citizen of Bent Barrow Farm. I know this because I am modest, handsome, intelligent, brave, and kind, and because I have heard the FarmWife saying that it is so. Everyone knows that Wives are always right.

#2—FarmHusband. I suspect that he also may be tied for best, because I have heard the FarmWife saying that HE is the best when she thinks I cannot hear her. She should know that mules have very good hearing. I have also heard the FarmWife say that he has a very nice ass, by which she can surely only mean me.

#3—the third citizen of B.B.F. is the FarmWife. She is mine. She is my stylist, personal trainer, wardrobe consultant, chef, server, chauffeur, and many other things. The only problem between us right now is that she wants me to learn the violin part for the Brahms Double Concerto in A minor so that we can hum duets on the trail.

#4 & 5—larval citizens of B.B.F. These two small people are very nice, and I like carrying them upon my back to see the salmon pond on Innis Creek. They are, together, not half as heavy as the FarmWife. FarmWife says that we would ride more if they had a babysitter, but I do not understand why we need a babysitter when we have a perfectly good electric fence.

#6—the oldest human child is a weanling citizen of B.B.F. She is big enough to be away from her mother sometimes, and she lives part of the time in a different city named Saddle. This big human child always gives me extra attention when she gets home, which I think is both because absence makes the heart grow fonder and because I am wonderful.

#7—the seventh citizen of Bent Barrow Farm is the goat, Jasper Jules. He is kind of a tool but most loyal sidekicks are. He would make a great fall guy if I ever wanted to do a bad thing, which I wouldn't. He does look silly when the humans dress him up and make him do manual labor, though! Jasper Jules has gone away to live in Blaine. We miss him, but Missy breathes easier without his constant abusive jostling.

Citizen #8 of Bent Barrow Farm is the woman goat, Royal Empress of All that the Sun Touches. The humans call her Missy, which I think is just hysterically funny. You should hear the things she says about THAT. If you search the archives you will see that she nearly died but didn't, and has been frail but happy ever since. FarmWife had actually planned the appointment to have her put down when the Empress jumped to her feet with a resounding "heck, no!"

Citizen #9 of Bent Barrow Farm is the miniature mule, Harriet. I am not sure what is wrong with her but she does not look exactly like other mules. I think she may have a birth defect but she is very, very nice—now, I don't want ANYONE to tease her. She does have very splendid ears, at least, and great wings too. She also has a bit of a superiority complex, but then those of us with magnificent auricles like these are entitled to a bit of pridefulness.

UPDATE, 6/1/11: Citizen #9 has been joined by Citizen #16, a mini lop minimule by the name of B. B is as sweet as they come, and she does not have any of the illusions of grandeur held by her little white friend. She has a pirate sweater which she hates but which makes her look like a scurvy dog.

Citizen #10 of Bent Barrow Farm is B.G., Missy's daughter. B.G. was bred here, then sold, then repurchased from her owners the Chicken People with the intended purpose of becoming our dairy doe. This is sort of funny because she hardly ever comes into season. She did have three lovely triplets (finally!) in the spring of 2011.

Citizen #11 of Bent Barrow Farm is Paisley. He's fluffy like a cloud and I want to have him as a pillow. He will not come near me, though, as the goats make him tremble in terror. FarmWife told me that he is from a proud line of herders, which means he is supposed to steer hooved animals hither and thither with his teeth. In one sense, then, he is a big failure.

Citizens #12 & #13 of Bent Barrow Farm are the little tigers, Desmond and Townes. They are less mighty than the dog because they are miniaturized but I can imagine that their ancestors were very ferocious. They think they are very clever because they get to go wherever they want.

Citizens #12 a and 12 b are the fish, Lellow and Goldie. I don't think they deserve real numbers because I secretly suspect that they are figments of Desmond's imagination. Imagine the FarmWife and Mr. Jones squandering their precious resources on an aquarium full of little fishies! If they truly had an aquarium I am sure they would get a hippocampus to put in it.

Update 4/11: The house tigers report that the last two tetras have gone to a new home and the aquarium dismantled. I don't believe it existed in the first place. Only the humans know for sure.

Citizens 14a, b, c, d, e, f, and g are chickens. I find them baffling and indistinguishable. They speak in some sort of pidgin and most of what they say is completely unintelligible. The humans remove poorly formed, limbless, round offspring from the chicken coop every day and I am sure that their intention is to spare the chickens the grief of burying their own young.

Citizen 15 is the husband chicken, and the only thing that makes him more interesting than the others is that his bray is not dissimilar to my own. He has a lot of wives but I have an internet girlfriend, Katie Scarlett, who is much prettier.

Oliver, our borrowed pony, might have been citizen #16 of BBF, but after one too many fence-smashing, neighborhood-terrorizing, husband-angering escapades he was sent away in shame to live at Granny's house.The FarmWife has since made our paddock look like an electrified velociraptor habitat, so perhaps one day Ollie can return. It would be fun to see him get his comeuppance! Perhaps he can be citizen #15 and a half.

Update 12/10—Citizen #17 (we didn't skip 16—see, she's up there with Harriet the Minimule) is Clover the Christmas Chihuahua. Clover came as a present from FarmHusband to FarmWife and the human children. She is braver than Paisley and more shiny, but I did once mistake her for a marauding weasel. Oops!