How to Get A Mule Like Me

link to pictured mule

Dear Readers,

There are more nice mules on www.dreamhorse.com than ever before, and I know that this is because the universe is conspiring to get YOU a mule of your own. With exception to Katie Scarlett, Surprise, and Maisy, I am not sure that there are enough mules in my audience to satisfy all of my readers' longear needs.

Shopping on Dreamhorse is all well and good, but even with the plentitude of mules listed, I don't know if there are enough great ones for ALL of my 129 fans, so I have thought of another way.

First, check Dreamhorse. You might find a nice mule like this one, who would be prettier in brown, or this one, who deserves a rider who knows that one does not place 85% of the foot in the stirrup under normal circumstances. If you live in Washington, you should go get both of them today!

Second, broaden your search to include quality horse mares. You might end up choosing someone like this, who's got looks and mad skilz. Then, you search the world over for a donkey jack who deserves her. You will probably spend less on the stud fee than on the mare, especially if you buy thi$ mare that I already recommended.

Breed the two, wait 11 and a half months (yes, mules take longer than horses to cook because they are harder and more important to make), and Voila! A baby.

YOU ARE NOT DONE!

If you truly want a mule like me, you must then assess the baby. Does it display perfect symmetry, with possible exception to it's nostrils? (I have one horse nostril and one donkey nostril, which tends more towards the endearing than the grotesque.) Does it combine strength and grace in every feature? Does it exude class from every pore, and demonstrate elegance in every motion? Does it understand the importance of frequent meals and energy conservation? Does it grok the true meaning of Rest and Relaxation?

Once you are sure you have a very likely candidate, you must raise it right. This means exposing it to all sorts of challenges . . . slopes to summit, rivers to ford, threats to bypass, and snacks to root out and devour. Do not expose it to the Evil Lines on the road, unless you want your very good mule baby swallowed into hellfire before you even get to ride it.

If you successfully raise a beautiful, athletic, intelligent, level-headed mule to adulthood you may ride it without any further fuss. Do not worry about sophisticated, advanced training; if your mule is just like me, he will do just fine without any careful attention to the establishment of communicative aids. He will read your mind, though he might not always read your direct rein.

I hope you enjoy the new mule that you will have if you follow my instructions. You're welcome!

Love, Fenway

P.S. Once you have your mule, you must give the relationship tender loving care by following these guidelines: Always meet him with a snack; never force him to work beyond his fitness level; never force him to work within two hours of a meal; never forget his daily ear rub; use a rubber bit or hackamore unless you want to spend half the day warming cold steel before a winter ride; never underestimate his intelligence, emotional sophistication, or appetite; and don't let your mule establish a website of his own unless he promises not to steal my customers.

Comments

Here are the Cloud Dog's X-Rays

Here, for your edification, are the X-rays of dear Paisley's leg. There is, apparently, no new break (since his Monday siezure) but there is, of course, a great deal of abnormality caused by years of living with a shortened ulna. His pronounced lameness, the vet says, may temporarily improve. Unlike me, Fenway Bartholomule, poor cloud dog can't expect much in the way of a full recovery. Not having the $$$$ for surgery to fuse the joint, we are working on making some sort of rigid splint to support the limb and prevent further degeneration. That is, the humans (with their space-age material inventions and their opposable thumbs) are working on making a splint; I am working on giving cloud dog brayful looks of support and encouragement every time he totters into the yard to relieve himself. As always, he fears me (me?!) and keeps his distance. Ears to you, Fenway

Continued . . .

Vegan Spring Rolls

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Continued . . .

That Which Was Foretold Has Come To Pass

After some negotiation and exchange of words like "motheaten" and "raggedy", Farmwife talked me into enduring the roaching of my mane, which I had rubbed on the fence while reaching for delectable edibles at my previous home. We both agreed on four things: 1) it was essential to retain my forelock, which is a thing of splendor that adds greatly to my dashing good looks. I'll get a picture for you tomorrow. 2) once the cut has grown out a bit, she will give me those fancy castle turrets that she used to style for Fenway. 3) we owe our dear readers a better photo, when I have not just rolled in the mud. 4) there is no hairstyle capable of making me look anything but marvelous.

Continued . . .

The Scoop on Bird

Human here, to give you the scoop on Songbird. He is shiny, sweet, and wonderful . . . and a little bit broken hearted. (Fenway was once, too.) As I've gotten to know him more over the last month, I've come to understand that he associates humans with unpleasantness, at least, and suffering, at worst. He has some gnarly scars. He flinches away from touch, though he warms up quickly when treats are involved. He's quite a foodie. He's easily startled. He's alert, and vigilant. He doesn't always feel safe. He also really likes it at my mom's house, which has a slower pace than the wonderful boarding and lesson barn where he lived in June. He appreciates the predictable routine, the long quiet afternoons, and the retired horses who give him company. He has flattened the grass under the big cedar out back and created nests to rest in. The soft footing at my mom's is better for his newly bare feet. He is starting to believe he'll be ok. I have ridden him...

Continued . . .

BRAYS OF OUR LIVES

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