An Open Letter to Courtney King-Dye

Dear Courtney,

Firstly, I am a mule.

There, now that that's out of the way . . . my human, like so many others, has never met you. She is touched by your struggle and inspired by your life, however, and wanted to write with her very best wishes for your quick and full recovery. I, Fenway Bartholomule, interceded. 

"FarmWife," I told her, "Ms. King-Dye is surely getting kazillions of emails from humans just like you." Of course, she agreed. 

"FarmWife," I said, "perhaps Ms. King-Dye has not gotten one single email from a mule, as of yet!" Of course, she agreed. 

"FarmWife," I told her, "wouldn't an email from me, Fenway Bartholomule, be something indeed?" Of course, she agreed. This was a very good thing, Courtney, because I have no opposable thumbs. I rely upon my human to help me with typing.

From both of us and from all of your many fans, worried and hopeful, we send our very best. We are pulling for you. As you may know, we mules pull like the dickens. 

Ears to You,

Fenway Bartholomule