You Mustn't Call Me Fat

You mustn't call me fat, and here is why:

1. I am not fat, I am muscular. This is the body of a chiseled athlete. These well-sprung ribs house a heart of steel, and lungs like vast bellows. Each breath stokes a raging fire, and this round belly fuels the blaze. I do exercise, and I do so handily (as this video demonstrates).

2. If I am a wee pinch fleshy—on top of the muscles—this is not obesity. This is a caloric buffer against famine, a defense evolved to withstand any hardship. Who knows how long the Volvo hay mother shall continue to bear her fruit? Should she fail in her duty, I would perish but not for this cushion of stored energy. Curse the electric fence!

3. I have FarmWife's comfort in mind. Have you ever ridden bareback on a shark-finned TB? A jaunt on me is like a lounge in a La-Z-Boy by comparison. I am softer than a saddle, and more fuzzy.

4. I earn my own hay money (if you like this blog, you can paypal your thanks to afatbrownmare at yahoo dot com!) and I am simply cannot afford the high-calorie fare so popular among hard keepers. Alfalfa meal? Oats? Sweet feed? Chopped hay? Beet pulp? The bills would skyrocket! As it stands, I eat about ten pounds of grass hay every day. It's what I can afford, and it does the job nicely. On top of that, my vet warned me not to eat a bite less. A body needs a certain amount of roughage just to stay regular, you know.

5. Exercise certainly does a body good, and it could be true that my athletic physique would be all the finer if I could get out five days per week versus two, but there are limits to FarmWife's availability. As a stay-at-home mom, full-time mule owner, part-time freelancer, and part-time employee, she's spread a bit thin. She could really use a two-hour break, three days a week, in which to ride me.To this end, qualified volunteers are invited to babysit the larval humans. Free dog hair with every visit! Email to sign up.

Ears to you,

Fenway "More to Love" Bartholomule

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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

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Vegan Spring Rolls

I, Fenway Bartholomule, am a vegan: of course I only eat plants, not people! My human is too, so I'm sharing my blog with her today so that she can participate in the 2014 Virtual Vegan Potluck ! When you're done perusing the recipe for these delicious spring rolls, click "back" or "forward" for the entire potluck experience! Virtual Vegan Potluck: Spring Roll Appetizers Beautiful? Check. Healthy? Check. Delicious? Check. Easy? Check. Fancy? Check. Quick to clean up after? Check. Vegan? OF COURSE! If you're looking for something portable, colorful, and crowd-pleasing for your next potluck, look no further than these simple vegan spring rolls! The best part? You can substitute ANYTHING. I never make these the same way twice, so play around with cilantro, kale, cabbage, scallions, or whatever you think sounds good! Ingredients Veggie mix: 2 carrots (grated) 4 oz mung bean sprouts 1/3 cup chopped peanuts (raw, or roasted and salted) or ...

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Mowers and raccoons and steers, oh my!

In my informal Facebook survey I learned that the majority of Friends of the Muleness want more stories—All the Stories!—and that the story they want most of all is the story of the raccoon. Farmwife says it's hardly a story at all, and that it would be something to talk about had the raccoon been in my barn, or touching my body, or gesticulating at me with it's bizarrely human little fingers to indicate that it would like a little snack or help with its homework. Alas, this is not that kind of story. Before I tell you about the raccoon I have to go backwards and tell you that I am feeling very good in my body these days. My track through the forest has been expanded, my laminitis is at bay, and my health has been very largely excellent since I came here to the Atomic Ranch in December. I am feeling so good, in fact, that I have been cleared for long walks around the neighborhood! Puck, Farmwife, and I sometimes make the long loop up Saratoga and back around Fox Spit, which ...

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To Boot or Not to Boot

There're boots (FarmWife's, pictured) and and then there're boots (mine, below) and boots (suspensory). And THOSE—suspensory, support or protective boots—are what I want to talk about today. (And yes, I know that there are a million other kinds, too, but a mule has only so much time.) I love my Easyboot Epics, and I would gladly wear a second pair on my hind hooves if the opportunity presented itself. So far, it hasn't, but it's only a matter of time until a mule of my caliber starts seeing the corporate sponsorship love. All in due time! In the meantime, FarmWife wonders about protective or supportive boots. You know, the kind that make a mule look very fancy, ready for anything, and primed for tremendous athletic accomplishment? Really, I would love to have some. I think they'd look sassy. The arguments in favor of wearing something like a Sports Medicine Boot are thus: I love to a...

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BRAYS OF OUR LIVES

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