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Originally Posted by busterb
Now for the Mule story. BTW I stole this and it’s not verbatim.
Over a hill trailed a man behind a mule drawing a plow. Unexpectedly the plow hit a root, the mule stopped, and the man began to grumble as he fixed the hames. “Bill,” Your just a mule, the son of a jackass, and I am made in the image of God. Yet here we work hitched up together year after year. I often wonder if you work for me or I work for you..
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Busterb, your mule story sounds like one my Daddy would have told. He grew up on a tobacco farm in Kentucky during the depression and him and his brother spent a lot of time plowing the fields behind a mule. My Daddy said a mule is the most cussed animal you might ever hope to meet, but I think he had a sneaking fondness for them. He was a chief supply officer in Burma in WWII, and for a while the only way you could get supplies in to our guys fighting in the jungles there was via mule train. My Dad told how an enemy sniper aiming for him hit his lead mule instead and the mule went off the trail down over the side of the mountain. My Dad would get tears in his eyes telling that story. "Best damn mule I ever had," he used to say.