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My father had a specially trained mule which he rode so he could be in the woods. One time Dad fell off and couldn't get back on her. His dog sat huddled next to him to keep him warm and the mule stood over them both to protect them.
When Dad died, the mule would come to the spot where Dad always hobbled out to feed her treats and she would cry. She almost mourned herself to death. It was so sad.
Jan
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I still dream and I still hope, therefore I can take what comes today.
Jan is in Lothlorien reading 'neath a mallorn tree.
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