Today I carried my oldest human filly up to the valley of the deer skeletons, at which place she got off and handed me to her mother. FarmWife mounted and enjoyed a brief trot down to the end of the pipeline road and a canter on the return. They traded back (Weanling astride, FarmWife afoot) and we came down through the yellow gate, turned left at Innis Creek, and sauntered home. I then proceeded to give the baby fillies rides, one after another, to Uncle Jim's gate and back. The four of them, I'll gratefully acknowledge, never did attempt to ride me all at once.
This is the complexity of being a family mule, but I welcome it. What can I say? They adore me, all of them, and for good reason. I am a good boy, no matter who my passenger.
Ears to you,
FenBar
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