Wednesday, February 11, 2009

When we were young, we had a donkey. He was already named when we got him, and we kept the name, Pedro Joe.

I can guarantee you one thing. Mules get their stuborness from the donkey. I can remember times that I wanted Pedro Joe to lead for me and he would plant his two front feet stiffly in front of him and refuse to go. I even tried pushing him from behind and he still wouldn't move. Then there were times when I was riding him that he would just decide he had gone far enough and just stop. Nothing could convince him to go forward until he was good and ready.

One day, Jackie and I had Pedro Joe out of his pen and decided to take a nice, leisurely walk down the road. We had no trouble at all because Pedro Joe was ready for a walk. We were probably 1/2 mile from home when much to our surprise, and Pedro Joe's, brother John and his friend John jumped out of the ditch in front of us, waving their arms hysterically. Pedro Joe reacted immediatly and began bucking and pitching about. Jackie was on the back and was the first one to hit the dirt. Pedro headed straight for the house. It wasn't long after that I found myself on the ground, too, but I was so angry at that donkey that I jumped up and chased him all the way home. Didn't even think about checking to see if Jackie was okay. And John? What can I say? Ornery brothers.

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