By Nancy Gallimore, CPDT-KA
I was somewhat up and at ‘em this morning. Well, as up and at ‘em as I ever am for a nonmorning person. I was showered, dressed and even had time to style my hair. Out the door at 6:40 a.m., headed to work on time and in good form.
And this is the very point where all my plans for the day went awry.
At about the halfway mark in my trek down our rather long driveway, I suddenly see our brown mule, Ferris Muler, coming in through my front gate at a rather brisk trot. Note the words “coming in.” He trotted past my Jeep, glanced at me rather sheepishly (a sheepish mule?), and proceeded around the side of the house, past the chicken coop, and headed toward our barn. I now officially know what it feels like to be the parent of a teenager who is caught coming home well past curfew. And I have no idea how my “teenager” got out in the first place.
Start your day with the best of intentions. Mix in one errant mule. Throw getting to work in a timely manner out the window. Go attempt to round up said mule. Fun!
Ferris is a great mule. Ferris is also a very large mule, and he is not a creature you can force to do anything he doesn’t particularly want to do. He does everything in his own sweet time. I have found that if you try to rush him, something you think should take 10 minutes could easily turn into two hours of frustration. This is a creature who likes to think things through. Study a situation from every angle. Weigh his options.
So, instead of trying to catch him, I walked right past Ferris, issuing nothing more than a nonchalant good morning. Reverse psychology at its finest. Nooooo, I don’t need to catch you. You just enjoy your time on the wrong side of the fence.
Yes, I walked past my escapee into the barn and proceeded to feed the other horses who were gathering and nickering with glee at the prospect of an extra little surprise snack This caught Mr. Always-up-for-ameal’s attention, and he came to within 20 feet of the barn, eyes locked on me, extralarge ears swiveling to and fro, following my every move.
I continued to ignore him but left the gate into his pasture open with an enticing bucket of feed within sight. After about five minutes of giving it some serious consideration—after all, the grass in this case is actually a good deal greener on the other side of the fence—Ferris opted for the bucket of sweet feed and passed unceremoniously through the gate.
At this point, I am running 20 minutes late, I am slightly sweaty, my hair that was washed and smoothed is now frizzy, and my shoes and feet have been soaked by the heavy morning dew. I jogged back to my Jeep to once again attempt to get to work. As I pulled the rest of the way up the driveway and out my front gate, I couldn’t help but glance around and wonder where in the world Ferris spent his night out.
I may have a neighbor or two who could fill in some of the details, but I don’t think I’m going to ask around. That’s just inviting trouble, isn’t it? So, Ferris Muler’s escapades will likely remain a mystery, and I am once again taught that life on Tails You Win Farm often operates outside of all plans and schedules. You just take a deep breath, slap a ball cap over that frizzy hair and go with the flow.
A note to Ferris: If you’re planning to go out again tonight, at least stop by the house to invite me to go with you. If I’m going to be a mess at work again tomorrow, I’d like a good story to go with it. I can hear it now… a mule and a gal with frizzy hair walk into a bar…
