Brays Of Our Lives

FarmWife left my pasture gate partially closed yesterday, or perhaps the goats moved it while I was not looking. Whatever the explanation, the results were the same: A Narrowed Passageway. This is a big no-no, mulekeeping 101. My delicate hips, my tender shoulders! To think of all the accidents that could have befallen me! (They didn't, by the way, and they wouldn't have, really, because I am Sensible.)

"FarmWife," I called, "You'll want to prop that all the way open before you leave!"

She ignored me.

"FarmWife," I called, "You'll regret that later!"

She acted as though she didn't hear.

"FarmWife," I told her, "I am going to come running to you later today, and I will bray with such compelling cuteness that you will be provoked to take a video recording of the event. You will want things Just So for my movie. Open that gate all the way!"

She walked away.

Now, of course, we have a lovely video of my speedy approach. It reflects everything that is sweet about me, demonstrates all of my endearing character and affectionate charms, and stands for all that is good. She says we cannot post it on the internet because it reflects poorly on her mulekeeping standards. That half-closed gate is a B!T@H.

Well, FarmWife, my adoring public needs to see this, and I shall post it for them. Don't say I didn't tell you to open the gate.