In 2010, after thirteen marathons, hundreds of road races and countless training miles, I had my right knee replaced.
Due to complications from the anesthesia, I would up spending almost three weeks in the hospital.
It gave me time to think about life and I decided to learn to trail ride.
It was such a big part of Terri’s life that I thought I should share it too.
After being discharged I had months of rehabilitation and exercise ahead of me and I threw myself into it wholeheartedly.
I even missed a whole season of golf although I don’t think the sport suffered from that.
In April 2011, Terri said to me, “I got you a wedding anniversary gift.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s a nice little female mule,” she answered, “she’s a cross quarter horse cross and her name is Tulip.”
I was silent for a minute while all of that sunk in.
“Terri,” I said, “Do you know what the guys at the bar in Knoxie’s will be saying about me if I’m riding around on a little female mule named Tulip. I appreciate the thought but I don’t think that is going to work.”
Our summers, since moving to the country, had been spent with her trail-riding with her girlfriends and me trying to improve my golf game.
Terri was enjoying trail-riding but my golf game wasn’t improving.
I had the highest golf handicap at the Pompey Club and still do.
Shortly after our conversation, Tulip arrived at our friend Leona McGinnis’s barn while Terri was building her barn.
Terri had bought her from a family in the southern tier and they had primarily used her for coon hunting at night.
At that point I had never ridden a horse, never mind a mule. It would be an understatement to say that Tulip had no manners. The first time Terri got on her, Tulip took off at a gallop and Terri had to turn her towards a tree to get her to stop.
Needless to say, if that had happened to me, my image at Knoxie’s would have been burnished even more.
“I think I need my own mule,” I told Terri, “one that is a little calmer.”
After searching the internet for a few months, I found one on Craigslist that was located just over the border in Pennsylvania.
Terri and I drove down to look at him with Leona.
We found a mule standing in a stall in about a foot of manure.
He had come from a resort in the Catskills and was the last of the group purchase. His companion had been sold separately and he was the saddest animal I had ever seen.
The owner, who claimed to be a “rescue” person brought him out and had one of her employees ride him.
After a couple turns in the round pen, she returned him to the stall.
“How much do you want for him?” I asked her. “Seven-hundred and fifty dollars,” she replied. I told her I would be back with a trailer and a check for her but I wanted a veterinarian check before the deal was done.
Terri and Leona asked me, “Are you sure he’s the mule for you?”
“I don’t know” I answered “but I couldn’t forgive myself if I left him here.”
The vet check was being done by her vet since we didn’t know any in the area and he reported that the mule, whose name was “Harry” was sound and was approximately fifteen years old.
Leona was kind enough to volunteer to trailer him back to Central New York and we drove down to get him.
The trailer ride back home showed me what kind of shape he was really in. He was having difficulty standing for the whole ride and worked himself up into a real lather.
At the time, I was taking lessons from Nancy Cerio and she agreed to board him while the barn was being built.
Nancy was a very knowledgeable teacher and I overcame my apprehensions about riding.
Her lesson horse was pretty knowledgeable too, especially when it came to me.
If he felt like cooperating, he would. If he felt like playing head games with me, he would do that too. Every lesson was interesting.
While I was taking lessons, I took the time to bond with my new mule.
I visited him every day, took him out on a line and gave him apples and other treats. I also changed his name to “Donovan.”
While we were bonding, Donovan gained over three-hundred pounds which he badly needed.
After a couple of months, Nancy suggested we take him out for a trail ride. We went out for an hour and he couldn’t have been easier to handle.
All those years on a hack line in the Catskills made him push button.
My decision to buy him was one of the best decisions I ever made.
More to come next week.