This, I think, was the summer o' visitors. It's been good—the June visitors brought carrots, the July visitors brought watermelon, and the August visitors brought pears. One of the July visitors had muleback rides (but gently, and only because he was two—July was also the month, if you will recall, of the hock injection); the August visitors remembered to include me in their beautiful family photo.
Yesterday, a friend from way-off Massachusetts came for lunch, and produced carrots from the garden.
Jasper Jules and I have a special way of enjoying little carrots: I commence to chewing the delectable root, whilst he robs me of as much greenery as he can gobble. His little pink lips browse the foliage, nibbling right up to the limits of my own big brown ones. It is a race to see who can swallow more, and sooner, but he usually gets most of the green stuff (which, doctors say, is the healthiest part!) Like taking candy from a baby, except that it is a vegetable and I am a grown mule. I cannot stop him without compromising my reputation for gentleness and dignity, and so I don't. Anyway, there's this comfort—the root is sweeter.
When it comes to bigger carrots, the humans break them into safe bite-sized pieces. This "oh, but they'll choke!" business is silly, if you ask me. It's as though they're forgetting that we ungulates have gigantic masticating molars the size of a grown man's knuckles.
Speaking of silly, there was apparently a goat costume contest at our local fair yesterday. We missed it! I am so disappointed. I would have loved so much to make Jasper Jules don his tutu and hennin for the event.
And, speaking of costumes, I know what I'm going to be for Halloween. Do you?
With that, I take my leave of you . . . but first, cross your fingers for me that NEXT summer will be the summer o' trail rides!
Ears to you,
Fenway Bartholomule
Yesterday, a friend from way-off Massachusetts came for lunch, and produced carrots from the garden.
Jasper Jules and I have a special way of enjoying little carrots: I commence to chewing the delectable root, whilst he robs me of as much greenery as he can gobble. His little pink lips browse the foliage, nibbling right up to the limits of my own big brown ones. It is a race to see who can swallow more, and sooner, but he usually gets most of the green stuff (which, doctors say, is the healthiest part!) Like taking candy from a baby, except that it is a vegetable and I am a grown mule. I cannot stop him without compromising my reputation for gentleness and dignity, and so I don't. Anyway, there's this comfort—the root is sweeter.
When it comes to bigger carrots, the humans break them into safe bite-sized pieces. This "oh, but they'll choke!" business is silly, if you ask me. It's as though they're forgetting that we ungulates have gigantic masticating molars the size of a grown man's knuckles.
Speaking of silly, there was apparently a goat costume contest at our local fair yesterday. We missed it! I am so disappointed. I would have loved so much to make Jasper Jules don his tutu and hennin for the event.
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PHILIP A. DWYER | BELLINGHAM HERALD
Macki Johnston, 11, Whatcom Cattle & Company 4-H club member and Mia, a, saanen goat, test a new head dress Tuesday morning, Aug, 17, 2010, in preparation for the goat costume contest.
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And, speaking of costumes, I know what I'm going to be for Halloween. Do you?
With that, I take my leave of you . . . but first, cross your fingers for me that NEXT summer will be the summer o' trail rides!
Ears to you,
Fenway Bartholomule
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