Had a strange dream two nights ago. Seems a fellow I don’t know (the “hero” of the dream) was in need of horses, and quick. This guy and I were in some big house on a high ridge overlooking a deep ravine with a river running through it (not a huge river, so it was frozen over) and he needed to make a quick escape. We slipped out behind the house and looked down the ravine — lo and behold, his friends were pushing horses right up the ravine, on the ice! We scrambled down the steep wall of the ravine to meet them.

The horses were being pushed hard, and were slipping and sliding around. Suddenly my dad’s mule, Polly, came barreling toward us, sliding and spinning, with her ears back tight against her head. As she slides past us, she pirouettes with perfect timing and snaps her two hind hooves straight at the hero’s face — and at that moment I woke up!

Clearly Polly didn’t like running on ice, and clearly, she knew this fellow was the reason she had to. Never seen such a display of “mule-fu”!

Analysis, anyone? Jinglebob at the Dennis Ranch blog suggested it was the fruit of too many jalapeno, peanut butter, and mayonnaise sandwiches. For the record, I’ve never tried such a thing — but Gabe might!