“Honey!” I screamed. But no, it wasn’t Honey. It was the neighbor’s mule.
I was driving along Hagadorn Road, taking the husband to meet his shuttle. We were almost to the 96 overpass when I saw a lone, light-colored pony walking along the middle of the road. I mentally calculated how many layers of fence Honey would have to breech in order to get out, and it seemed impossible. Then I noticed how thin she looked. And how long the ears were. Suddenly, it clicked in and made sense.
It wasn’t Honey. It was Jake. The neighbor’s mule.
So I did the only thing I could. I stopped the car and held the mule while the husband grabbed jumper cables from the trunk. Then I created a makeshift halter and led Jake three doors down to his house.
Luckily, someone was home. We went to the barn and discovered that somehow Jake had opened the gate, and since one of the barn doors was already open, he zipped right out of the barn and toward the road.
So unfortunately, the husband’s going to be an hour late to work this morning.