Mulis und andere Nervensägen

One morning, when I walked down to the stable, a tied-up mule was standing by the well.

Gillian: “Morning, John. Who’s here with the mule?”

John: “No idea. I thought you were expecting someone. It was already here when I arrived.”

We walked over to the well.

Gillian: “Well, hello there, sweetheart. Who do you belong to? Where’s your owner?”

John: “I haven’t seen any strangers. He looks well cared for. I’m sure his owner’s somewhere around.”

We searched the entire ranch but found no one.

Gillian: “I give up. We’ve checked the whole place. There’s no one here who doesn’t belong.”

Jamie: “Maybe someone dumped him. Keep him. A mule suits you perfectly. Then you can complain in duet.”

Very funny. But maybe Jamie was right. Meadowland was known as a safe haven for horses. Perhaps someone had simply left him here. I contacted the police to see if a mule had been reported missing — nothing. So we kept him for the time being. Our sweet little foundling. I named him Corny. As it turned out, Corny was rideable. He proved very skillful at helping gather the cattle — brave and clever, and often pulling hilarious faces that made us laugh. He blended in perfectly with the ranch horses, and we decided to keep him. Since he wasn’t microchipped and had no brand mark, there was no way to identify an owner. A few days later, I had something to do in the fishing village of Westcap when one of the fishermen approached me.

Fisherman: “Good day, young lady. Isn’t that Higgins, Bob’s mule? Haven’t seen him in a while. Didn’t know Bob had sold him.”

Bob meant nothing to me. The fisherman casually mentioned that Bob used the mule to transport smuggled goods between his hiding spots. Oh great. I decided to leave quickly. I wanted no part in that. Back at Meadowland, Jamie and I were discussing the upcoming work.

Gillian: “You should take a look at the roof. I think there’s something—”

We were suddenly interrupted. Oh no. That had to be Bob.

Bob: “Hey folks. I heard you’ve got something that belongs to me. I want it back. My associate left it here by accident when I had to… let’s say… disappear for a while.”

I hadn’t expected him to show up here. The fisherman must have told him. One thing was clear — I wasn’t going to let him take Corny. Who knew what would happen to him during Bob’s next “disappearance”? A long argument followed. Thankfully Jamie was by my side. Bob finally threatened to return the next day and take the mule — and that it wouldn’t be so friendly then.

Gillian: “What are we going to do? Bob and his partner really scared me.”

Jamie: “Gillian, we shouldn’t handle this alone. We need to call the police.”

So we did. I informed them, and the next day they were waiting nearby. Bob and his partner Rob arrived and stood threateningly in front of us.

Gillian: “Corny stays here. You’re leaving. Now.”

Bob was just about to respond when a police officer stepped out from behind a tree.

Jamie: “Hey Bob, looks like you’ve got company.”

Police Officer: “Well, well… Bob and Rob. No one’s taking anything today — except the two of you.”

I felt such relief watching them being led away in handcuffs.

Gillian: “Wow… that was intense. Did you see their faces?!”

Jamie: “Just wait until you see mine — when that mule and his two-legged colleague keep braying in my ears all day…”

I shot him a look. Corny brayed. And Jamie wisely kept his distance.