Day 1: Owner tries to blindfold me.
I’m a mule, so I am the superior species on the planet and the smartest out of all equines, so I clearly know when things aren’t right. I’m not stupid, after all. With my advanced intelligence, I have figured out my owner is out to kill me. I have kept a diary, documenting all this torture. If I end up missing, you know where to look.
Day 1: I’m just minding my business, eating my breakfast and my owner sneaks up on me and tries to blindfold me. Of course I react, I mean, wouldn’t anyone? It’s not like she’s blindfolding me and surprising me with a cake and dancing girls. She tells me it’s for MY benefit, to keep the flies out of my eyes. I call bologna.
Day 3: Owner tries to sneak attack and spray me with poison. I know it’s poison because she’s wearing rubber gloves. If it was something good for me, she’d be spraying it on herself. I run for cover and she pins me in the corner and mumbles obscenities under her breath. I got your number, lady. I’ll be keeping my eye on you, that is IF this poison doesn’t make me blind.
Day 8: Owner says I need my feet trimmed. Why is this? She doesn’t even ride me, so who cares if my toes are a little long? I always thought I’d look more proportionate if I was a little bit taller. She’s probably telling me this so she can accidentally trim me too short and watch me bleed out. The treats she gives me doesn’t change my opinion of her.
Sorry, not sorry.
Day 14: Feeding time comes and she gives all the horses alfalfa, and me grass hay. I protest with my advanced vocal noises that horses lack. She says it’s because I’m an “easy keeper,” but I bet it’s because my hay has been sprinkled with rat poison. The horses won’t even touch the grass hay, so she has nothing to worry about in terms of her “beloved” horses getting sick.
Day 22: It’s raining, yet earlier in the morning she threw my hay outside, instead of in the barn. She probably checked the forecast, saw it was going to rain later in the day and hoped I would go outside and get struck by lightning. I better stay in the barn, just to be on the safe side… then again, maybe she’s one step ahead of me and knows I’ll stay in the barn, hoping lightening will strike the barn and I’ll be burned alive.
Day 26: Owner walks up to me and scratches my ears. While it feels good, I won’t let my guard down. She could “accidentally” slip with her fingers and puncture my brain, causing an immediate stroke.
Day 30: I’m still alive, but it’s been a very tiring month just making it through. I’ll take it one day at a time. Don’t worry lady, I got your number and YOU better watch out.
Go mules. Go riding.