Taking It Back Old School

<--Here I am, doing what I do best. I really like this picture because in it, I look smaller than I really am and my editor looks larger than she really is. That will teach her to call me fat.

I spent a long time working for some Amish people, who, despite their claims of a simple, godly lifestyle, promptly sent me down to auction in North Carolina once I hit age 17 or so.

I was a good mule. I could pull. I could pull anything. Plows, wagons, heavy logs. Time took a toll on my body. My shoulders are shrunk up because my old owners wouldn't buy me a collar that fit. But, as my therapist says, I got to let the past go. I have got it good now. I don't miss the past. I am glad to live in a place that believes in the internal combustion engine. I like it when people bring me hay and treats on the four-wheeler, yeah. I like living in the 21st century. I like to see people wearing clothes that are colored. If I had known before that people could be this nice, I don't think I could have stood it where I used to be.

And now I have a nice brown collar that fits me perfectly and a whole set of harness all to myself. Today after carrying my editor around in the ring for, like, EVER (ed. note: Our ride lasted 15 minutes), Cowboy hitched me to a little plow and I pulled it around. Hmph, it was light as a feather. ("Paul! You look *slim*!" everyone says to me.) You know what? Mah ears flopped back and forth and I liked it. I say, and I think Cowboy agrees, that plowing is most enjoyable when you do it for funs and not for necessity.

Regardless, we are all going to the big horse show next Saturday and enter the weight pulling contest. I got to show those young fools how it is done. First, though, I need a haircut, another bath and som of that stuff in a can that makes your hair shiny. Sombody has got to polish my harness, too.