by Kary Wright

Created on: May 03, 2008   Last Updated: February 03, 2009

This story involves a man, a few "friends" and a mule (half horse, half donkey, half attitude). As was more customary in the early 80's there was, or at least must have been, a little alcohol involved. It seems my city born and bred father was enjoying the newfound freedom associated with living on an acreage for the first time, and thus started associating with certain newfound "rawhide" cowboy type friends. These characters came complete with cowboy hat, boots, vest, neckerchief and Skoal ring in the back pocket. They also had the obligatory sprinkle of mischievousness found in all cowboys, hidden somewhere in their makeup. Their cunning senses detected a certain affinity for the bottle with my father, and a tendency to let his normally keen sense of judgment dullen slightly with each swig.

On one such occasion when his senses were sufficiently diminished by the group of overly persuasive rednecks and their swill, he was swayed into believing whole-heartedly that a harmless little excursion to the local auction mart would be a grand idea, one that would even be embraced by his loving wife. It appeared that the auctioneer was also a bit of a shyster, and if he couldn't spot a sucker right away he would surely notice the bobber twitching. Well a little touch of giggle juice for good measure, and it was proposed that it would add excitement to the adventure if one waved at the auctioneer occasionally, and with all these bargains to be had any successful bid would be welcome.

Into the ring came a beautiful, prancing, two year old solidly built mule ... or so it was advertised by said shyster. The bidding started, the waving began. Then more bidding, swigging and waving and soon city boy owned "Kubasa" the wonder mule.

The whole household was awakened at the grand old time of 3 a.m., to much whooping and hollering from successful shoppers. Kubasa was turned free in the pen while new cowboy friends departed for their next adventure, my father stumbled in to bed to a slightly less than warm reception.

It's funny how a great idea diminishes down to worse than bad after the glow wears off, as was the case here. Upon closer inspection the following morning, our new family member "Kubasa" appeared not to be a cuddly two year old baby. He had scars on him that were probably fifteen years old, and he stared into your eyes with a ferocity never before seen in these parts. I had heard that mules had a holy cross on their backs, and true to form upon closer inspection it proved

• 1
• 2
• 3
• Next Page >>