Mike's mule Cosmo had to be put down earlier this year due to an injury that was something which could not be fixed. It was an incredibly sad day. We love our livestock. We patiently put up with their quirks, their sometime rebellious moods, we laugh about their personalities, and we are proud of their strong work. They become friends we trust with our life and that's a pretty big deal. To say goodbye to a trusted friend is never very easy. Rest in Peace at the Walton Ranch burial hole, Cosmo. You were the ugliest good looking mule we've ever owned. You looked like a Milky Way bar with your chocolate spots and creamy colors filled around them. You made Mike swear more than once, you let Ruby ride on the saddle, and your adventures with Trumbower gave us so many good stories to remember and share around the campfire. You were a good mule.
So the search began to find another. And a search it has been, indeed. We almost made a trip to the northeast corner of Wyoming seeking a potential mule until veterinarian friend, Ken Griggs, took one look of the picture of the mule's teeth and advised us this mule was much older that was being advertised. Then friends Seth and Alden took a four-plus hour road trip to find a mule with an ugly abscess on its face (clearly the side they did not photograph) and left with an empty trailer. Thank you two, that was really nice of you to do that for us!
Seth kept looking. For us and for himself. He found our mule, he announced. And it looked like a real candidate! So we went for a drive yesterday. I took the day off and we drove south to Utah.
There were some early signs that pointed to how our day might go. The thermos of coffee dumping all of the coffee out into the lunch bag. The bag of dogfood ripping as Mike tried to transfer the food into the mouse proof container. I had bad feelings about taking the red diesel Dodge and said so. The failing air condition at end of summer and the funny knocking sounds during hunting season gave me a strong feeling we should have hooked to the old green Ford.
We arrived at the mule's owner's house around noon on a blue sky, breezy and mild winter day, red Dodge diesel towing the trailer. Mike saddled up the tall, dark mule, anxious leaving his two girlfriends in the small fence paneled yard.
Off they went into the open flat field to the south of the mule's home. Wagging his head and crow hopping a couple of times, it was clear he was not at all pleased about leaving the girls. Mule Owner and I watched with anxiety, wondering how long before Mike ended up in a heap on the ground. Further and further they rode off, Mike at the reigns of a mule that doesn't have a very good steering wheel, Mule Owner and I holding our breath as he rode further and further off into the distance (Mule Owner quietly proclaiming with a low and ominous tone, "I've never ridden him that far away before"). He turned the mule to cross to the other side of the field. Back and forth, round and round, crow hop or two thrown in, and back he came, a measured and calm walk, returning to his girls. Mike liked him. The mule's name is Moose.
So all seemed to be going well. Mike did not get dumped, he liked the mule, we bought the mule, and followed Mule Owner to vet to get health certificate. Off to the gas station to get fuel for the Dodge. Fueled up, we pulled onto the side road to take us to the interstate and then suddenly, another funny sound and the rubber smell of burning plastic sent Mike making a dramatic U-turn with trailer back into the parking lot. Gray acrid smelling smoke was billowing out of the hood and especially on my side. I was pretty sure we were about to watch our Dodge burn to the ground and I was thinking "get your purse, get the dogs, get the mule out of the trailer, and call 911".
Fortunately, it was just a major belt smoking to it's final breaking point. I guess that is better than burning up the truck, but it was a big deal. Mule Owner came to the rescue, brining a new belt, calling a mechanic friend, spending the remainder of his afternoon helping Mike replace the compressor (a new one delivered by a couple of young kids in an old beater Buick, cost of said compressor charged to Mule Owner's credit card - I would later repay him on his Venmo account) and figure out how to thread the serpentine belt in a very limited work space with a very limited tool selection. Another friend of Mule Owner showed up in a red flatbed pickup. Where did you come from, I asked. I saw JT over her under the truck and thought I might be able to help! Amazing, said I.
As Mike crawled into the truck to turn the key three and a half hours later, I asked how we might repay them. Both lowered their eyes and gave and "ah, shucks, we don't want any money" response. Pay it forward, one said. I can attest, there are still good people out there in the world!! They will get gifts of gratitude.
The sun dropped below the horizon and Mike started the engine. The belt stayed in place. We were on our way home!! We arrived in Freedom before 8:30pm with a tired mule, two tired dogs, and two happy passengers! Moose bayed his mournful mule holler, missing the girls left behind, under a starry sky with a bale of good alfalfa hay for eating. He was happy to get some grain from his new owner this morning and this afternoon will be meeting his new buddy, Gus.
Welcome to our Family, Moose. We will love you and take care of you just like we did with Cosmo and that we do for the others in the family. We know you will have quirks, strengths and weaknesses. We will do our very best to insure you have a long and healthy life. I think you will like it here. Please take good care of Mike. Thank you for not dumping him onto a field in Utah yesterday!
And the Dodge goes to the shop on Monday.
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