...to your pick up truck.
Well let me rephrase that. Or at least explain it.
While we were out hunting the other night hubby took Fred home and caught up the young hound that had gone home.
I stayed on the ridge about 1/2 mile away with Opal.
Fred loves to be with Opal. Fred always bickers with Opal in the pasture, but seperate them and he can act like a jerk.
Opal is rather ho-hum about Fred. At least she is with me. She didn't seem bothered in the least about being left in the dark with me and the hound dog.
Meanwhile back at home hubby tied Fred to his coveted pick up truck and went on to catch Buck to take off the GPS collar.
Apparently Fred had a hissy fit and after a long hard bray [which I could hear echoing through the woods]...bam.
Fred shotgunned his back feet out in anger.
He nailed 'the truck' next to the gas cap.
When hubby told me about it in an 'I'm peeved at this stupid mule' voice, I asked innocently.
"But why didn't you tie him to the trailer where the lead rope was?" My thought was it was an obvious choice and probably not a question he wanted to hear.
"Because I was in a hurry and I didn't think ol' Fred would do anything!" He quipped. "Stupid mule," he said while running a hand across his neck.
It wasn't hard to hide my grin in the dark. It was harder not to laugh the next morning when I saw the scuff marks on the side of the truck.