File #1102: "Mosaic_Spring_2004_24.jpg"
Description
Jake
Lise Pedigo
I can not recall the exact time or place my love affair started. I know for a fact it was hopeless to fight the urge to fall into the spiraling obsession. From the first meeting of a friend's racing mule, I knew mules were the animals I would spend a lot of time and money on. The stories my mother use to tell of Julie, her Grandfather's mule, and of adventures she would have on her Grandfather's farm only made the desire to own one worse. Mules have wonderful long ears, and there is something about their stubbornness I identify with. I loved everything about them; I was mule crazy.
Jake and I met seventeen years ago. He was fourteen hands, brown eyed, black haired, and had a great dislike for dogs. He and I had to get to know each other like any other couples do; and that took some time considering he was smarter than the average bear. From day one I learned he had no difficulty opening gates. After he let the mares in with our stallion, and waking up to the dairy cows in the front yard, the final straw was when he let the mares into the yard where a truck loaded with feed was parked and this caused an all-you-can-eat-gorge- feast. It would not have been so bad if horses only knew when to stop eating before they became sick. We decided a log chain and padlocks where the best way to secure and mule proof all our gates.
Jake's dislike for dogs was very evident the first time my sister and I saddled up and headed for the trail. Our family dogs were never too far away on these adventures, and they felt it was their duty to pro- tect us from vicious rabbits, turtles, and frogs. Half way out on one of these adventures one of the dogs were not paying attention and wan- dered to close to Jake. Jake proceeded to do a Tony award worthy dance number with individual legs flying through the air, until contact with the now terrified canine sent the poor dog rolling across the ground much like a well-kicked soccer ball. From this near death experience the dog learned to keep its distance; unfortunately, every new dog we acquire has had to learn this same lesson.
I have always trimmed our horse's hooves and other than an old crippled pony (who I started out on) no single animal has taken more delight in coming up with new ways to torment me while I tried to proceed with this necessary evil, than Jake. He started out with planting his feet to the ground in a stiff legged, stone statue imitation. When I figured out ways of raising his feet off the ground he would all of a sudden get too tired to hold up his own weight and use me as a giant perch. From there he tried raring up, kicking out with his hind legs and dancing around. When the desperation of losing the battles was evident, he pulled out all the stops and raised his tail and "gassed" me; now that would not have been so bad if I had not been trimming his back feet at the time. My back will not allow me to keep his feet trimmed; therefore, I have hired a girl fresh out of farrier school to come and learn all the thing that are not in books. The first day she came she was confronted with the entire bag of tricks, except the "gassing" which I expect will come later. On the second trimming, I was running late getting home and knew my husband, who did not have much experience with animals, and the farrier not having much experience with mules, would have their hands full if left on their own to deal with him. Needless to say, I was only mildly shocked when I pulled into the driveway and there was Jake lying on his side with my husband sitting firmly on the stubborn creature's long head, and the farrier awkwardly trimming his hooves upside down. It was on this visit that the farrier stated, "It takes a special person to own mules."
I think it would be safe to assume that a "mule crazy" individ- ual qualifies as a special person since most people would not have put up with Jake all these years. I told my husband when we got married if I have to chose between him and Jake he better pack his bag, and now of late I have made arrangements to brush and spoil four other mules that belong to someone else just to have more "mule" friends. Now when I look back on it I realize I should have been more careful not to be bitten by the "mule bug" because it is a life long illness.
Lise Pedigo
I can not recall the exact time or place my love affair started. I know for a fact it was hopeless to fight the urge to fall into the spiraling obsession. From the first meeting of a friend's racing mule, I knew mules were the animals I would spend a lot of time and money on. The stories my mother use to tell of Julie, her Grandfather's mule, and of adventures she would have on her Grandfather's farm only made the desire to own one worse. Mules have wonderful long ears, and there is something about their stubbornness I identify with. I loved everything about them; I was mule crazy.
Jake and I met seventeen years ago. He was fourteen hands, brown eyed, black haired, and had a great dislike for dogs. He and I had to get to know each other like any other couples do; and that took some time considering he was smarter than the average bear. From day one I learned he had no difficulty opening gates. After he let the mares in with our stallion, and waking up to the dairy cows in the front yard, the final straw was when he let the mares into the yard where a truck loaded with feed was parked and this caused an all-you-can-eat-gorge- feast. It would not have been so bad if horses only knew when to stop eating before they became sick. We decided a log chain and padlocks where the best way to secure and mule proof all our gates.
Jake's dislike for dogs was very evident the first time my sister and I saddled up and headed for the trail. Our family dogs were never too far away on these adventures, and they felt it was their duty to pro- tect us from vicious rabbits, turtles, and frogs. Half way out on one of these adventures one of the dogs were not paying attention and wan- dered to close to Jake. Jake proceeded to do a Tony award worthy dance number with individual legs flying through the air, until contact with the now terrified canine sent the poor dog rolling across the ground much like a well-kicked soccer ball. From this near death experience the dog learned to keep its distance; unfortunately, every new dog we acquire has had to learn this same lesson.
I have always trimmed our horse's hooves and other than an old crippled pony (who I started out on) no single animal has taken more delight in coming up with new ways to torment me while I tried to proceed with this necessary evil, than Jake. He started out with planting his feet to the ground in a stiff legged, stone statue imitation. When I figured out ways of raising his feet off the ground he would all of a sudden get too tired to hold up his own weight and use me as a giant perch. From there he tried raring up, kicking out with his hind legs and dancing around. When the desperation of losing the battles was evident, he pulled out all the stops and raised his tail and "gassed" me; now that would not have been so bad if I had not been trimming his back feet at the time. My back will not allow me to keep his feet trimmed; therefore, I have hired a girl fresh out of farrier school to come and learn all the thing that are not in books. The first day she came she was confronted with the entire bag of tricks, except the "gassing" which I expect will come later. On the second trimming, I was running late getting home and knew my husband, who did not have much experience with animals, and the farrier not having much experience with mules, would have their hands full if left on their own to deal with him. Needless to say, I was only mildly shocked when I pulled into the driveway and there was Jake lying on his side with my husband sitting firmly on the stubborn creature's long head, and the farrier awkwardly trimming his hooves upside down. It was on this visit that the farrier stated, "It takes a special person to own mules."
I think it would be safe to assume that a "mule crazy" individ- ual qualifies as a special person since most people would not have put up with Jake all these years. I told my husband when we got married if I have to chose between him and Jake he better pack his bag, and now of late I have made arrangements to brush and spoil four other mules that belong to someone else just to have more "mule" friends. Now when I look back on it I realize I should have been more careful not to be bitten by the "mule bug" because it is a life long illness.