There was the dog that would not eat raw meat, the goat that would push the coaster with his head, the cat that would eat with her front paws, and the chicken that would fly over the fence and come to our bedroom window and peck until she woke us up, then sing loudly until we gave her some food. Most of all, I remember the mule, "Julie".

Julie was born on July 1st, thus her name. She was, without a doubt the most intelligent, and cantankerous animal, including people, that I have ever met. She was small, weighing only about 400 pounds. Her color was red, with a white splash here and there. Her ears looked like something that belonged to a jackass. She could, when she wanted to, outrun any race horse by a large margin.

Julie could open a normal fence gate faster than a man. One of her favorite activities was to open the gate and come into our front yard. Mom always had beautiful flowers, and Julie loved to stomp them into mulch. She would not eat them, just walk on them. When we tried to run her out of the yard, she would run around the house just ahead of us. It took two people to get her out.

Julie would go into the stable and destruct the place. We would have to repair the stall when we got her outside. She had learned that to kick was to get hit, so Julie would not kick us. She had other more devious means at her disposal. She would try to pin you against the wall with her hind quarters, or spit on you. Yet, she loved to be groomed, and would come up to you and put her head down to be petted.

Getting Julie out of the stable was a job not looked forward to. So one Sunday while Mom and Dad were away, Evelyn, J.W. and I decided to teach her a lesson. We tied a wire to the rafter in the middle of her stall, hung a weight on it, and connected it to the electric fencer. We then opened the stall and told Julie to get out. Of course she would not come out, and turned her backside to the opening. We turned on the fencer. Julie went totally crazy. She kicked, turned around several times, bit the walls and finally exited the place, taking half the stable with her. The three of us were laughing so hard that tears ran down our faces.

Julie ran out into the pasture and fell head over heels, landing flat on her side. Then she did not move. We became very frightened, and began to talk about how we were going to explain a dead mule to my Father. We stood next to Julie and looked at her, feeling very guilty about what we had done. Then Evelyn noticed her eye moving. Her mouth was open, and after a while it grew dry. Julie started moving her lips and then she raised her head, looked at us as if to say, "I got even."

J.W. and I repaired the stable, then we all sat down to figure out what we would tell Dad. We decided not to tell him anything.

Many years later, after all of us were married, we had a family reunion. We started talking about some of the mischief we had gotten into, and we told the story about the electrocution of Julie. My father laughed and laughed. He said, "I wondered what had gotten into that mule. Suddenly she would leave the stall when she was told to do so."

Old Julie was a good worker. We took her to the log woods to pull logs to the sawmill. She worked without a bridle. She would go to a log and stand with one foot up until someone hooked the chain to the log. Then she would go to the sawmill and stop in just the correct spot, pick up one front foot and bray until someone disconnected her. She would do this from daylight until dark.

I don't know what happened to Julie. She was still on the farm when I left. She must have been over twelve years old at that time. As much trouble as she was, Julie is remembered by us as a friend.

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