by Chester Weems
Did you ever love a Mule?
Me either, but I think I knew one once. I have a sort of memory from childhood. My brother John actually accused me of making it up. But it is so clear in my head - so it must have been this way.
Our house was in the country, basically in a wheat field. We werepoor. We got our water from a hand dug well. We had no electricity, but we could see the electric poles at the section line corner, and dream of light bulbs.
Dad raised wheat, milked a few cows, had a couple of hogs,and often raised a calf for beef. Mom grew up in the city but was tough and smart. Mom had a garden for vegetables and her very special herbs and flowers, which she loved. We didn’t have a lot extra to eat, but enough. Pity the poor rabbit within range of Mom and her 22 rifle.
People at that time didn’t go to town a lot. Wasn’t much need to, except sometimes trade days once a month or the weekly Tuesday wash day, at the town laundromat.
We had no car. We did have a tractor, but we wouldn’t go to town on that. Sometimes my grandparents who lived close by, and had an old pickup, would take us for groceries on Saturdays. But it is not easy always depending on other folks to get around, even if they are family.
I don’t know for sure how it came about, but one day we had Domino. Dad had somehow got us a mule that could pull an old grain wagon that could take us all to town when needed. While it was not common at that time to use horses or mules, it was not totally unheard of either.
Domino was a fine mule, tall, big ears, pleasant look on his face. Mom thought he was cute with those long ears and extra-long eyelashes.
He was sort of a rusty reddish tone, skin, hair, even his ears, with white spots on each side. That’s why we named him Domino. It was like he was a double 3 on the right side and a double 6 on the left. Domino liked Mom and Mom liked him, and he tolerated us kids. Dad and Domino did not get along so well - there seemed to be some sort of personality conflict - but they coexisted. Domino could be a little stubborn, like a mule. Dad had some similar traits.
Dad was able to pick up Domino with a considerable discount onhis price, probably because Domino was born with only three legs. I don’t think Domino knew he was missing a leg, as he seemed to be happy, got along quite well, and had a positive attitude every day. And it really didn’t affect his job, for his only job was to pull the family wagon to town two or three days a week. And he did that OK. A three-legged mule may not be the smoothest mover around, but he could get the job done and always in good spirits too. Other than that, his only purpose in life seemed to be eating, especially from Mom’s garden.
At first Domino and Mom did have one little conflict. Mom had this great garden, including those herbs, but especially Mom loved her lavender. So did Domino. Mom tried to be stern and keep him out of the garden, but she finally realized that she was dealing with a mule and perhaps she needed an alternative strategy. She found a solution. One weekend she and Dad fenced in her garden to keep him out. That worked. Then, because she liked him, just to the north of her garden she planted a huge area of lavender, just for Domino.
Domino ate so much of that lavender that instead of having that distinctive horse/mule odor he smelled of lavender, which made him extra pleasant to be around. In fact, get within 10 feet of Domino and you could smell the sweet lavender, which seemed to pair nicely with his rusty red look.
There is one other twist to this situation. I had mentioned Domino was born with only three legs. The strange thing was that on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays and church Sundays he had two hind legs and one front leg. But on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, it was one in back and two in front. Since those were light workdays for Domino, it didn’t seem to matter much. Nobody made much fuss about it. Domino did just fine all seven days.
We found out Domino was a music lover the first time Mom had him pull her to church. They went to church and Mom parked Domino and the wagon on the east side of the church, where the choir sat. There was a door there and a couple of windows and when the weather was nice the windows would be open. The music would pour out and Domino would listen. The folks in Mom’s church loved to sing and would rock out on the hymns. That first time Domino took Mom to church they were in particular strong form and feeling the music. And the first time he heard - I’ll Fly Away (singing)
Domino perked up his ears, raised his head skyward, reared up in those two hind legs - always two in back on Sundays - and waved his one front leg and seemed to be looking to the heavens. I don’t think he was a particularly religious mule, it’s hard to tell with a mule, but he sure seemed to like the music.
Domino also liked going to town on Saturdays, a day for shopping and a little visiting. The last stop on the Saturday shopping trip was to go to the locker to get frozen meat for the next week.
The locker was a business that produced ice for sale and rented cold storage. Many folks in those days did not have freezers in their homes. They could can vegetables and keep the jars in their cellars but they rented space at the locker to store the frozen meat from their own farm raised meat.
Before you went back home at the end of Saturday shopping, you would stop by your locker to get enough meat to last you a week. You would also get blocks of ice to take back to put in your icebox at home to keep things cool for the week.
Mom would go inside to get some hamburger, maybe a steak or a roast for Sunday, or some pork chops, while dad got the ice on the east side of the building. The blocks of ice cost a quarter and would come out this chute for the customer to pick up. We always got 4 blocks, a dollar’s worth, to take home. That’s what our icebox would hold and what would usually last until next Saturday. We packed the ice in hay in the back of the wagon to keep it from melting.
One Saturday Dad did not have four quarters, just three, and thatwas the day we learned Domino was also a mathematical mule. When dad put the quarters into the slot to get the ice, it would come down the chute with a loud thud. Domino had the habit of counting the blocks by raising his right rear leg for each block. When dad got back into the wagon to go, with only 3 blocks, Domino would not go. He would not move. Dad had to borrow a quarter from the next customer to get that final block so we could go home.
Dad was muttering under his breath, something descriptive about Domino. The only words I remember were “stubborn, mule-headed” and something about “how many packages” and “I wonder what mule tastes like.”
Things slowly got a little better on the farm. We were able to get anold pickup that could take us to town whenever we wanted to. That was real freedom.
And then, without it being a big deal, Domino was no longer with us. Nothing was said, life just went on, and we now had lots more sweet- smelling lavender.
A few weeks after Domino left, I remember going with mom to church. Mom would get the Sunday meal ready for the oven and Dad would watch it. That day she prepared a nice roast, which she had picked up the day before from the locker, and she said, “I got something special for Sunday dinner.”
She fixed the potatoes, onions, carrots and green beans from her garden. Dad would have it ready when we got home.
On the way home from church Mom said, sort of quietly, “You know,I miss old Domino,” As we approached the house we could smell Sunday dinner. It smelled so good, extra special that day.
We all sat around the table. Dad loved to make a little ceremony of carving the meat and dishing up our plates. In front of him, as he started to carve, was this large piece of beautiful, rusty red roast, surrounded by the potatoes and other fixings. And the sweet smell of lavender from the meat filled the room.
Sometimes people now ask me what mule tastes like. I usually reply, “Sort of a cross between beef and chicken, maybe a little tougher.”
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