I have given deep thought to the plan proposed by Mr. Gale, one of my correspondents and tactical advisors. He suggested I gallop at high speed toward a closed door or wall, leaping sideways at the last minute so that the pursing, pestilent mule would find himself a flattened version of his former self.
An opportunity to test this stategy arose today; he was, as usual, chasing me while hurling abuse and insults in my direction. We galloped at high speed toward the large door of the run-in, which is really just an open archway. My plan was to bound sideways so that he would continue on and collide with the wall at the other end of the run-in. The plan was unfolding beautifully when we hit the one remaining patch of ice in the entire county, right in front of the doorway. My feet began describing rapid circles as I tried to brake and maintain my footing. TJ was, of course, oblivious to the situation and without pausing he collided violently with my hindquarters. We catapaulted into the middle of the run-in in a tangle of thrashing, flailing limbs. The idiot managed to land on top of me, breaking his fall and knocking every molecule of air out of my lungs.
The woman, who was tidying our hay storage area, expressed immediate concern for my well-being but I noticed a suspicious shaking of her shoulders and she appeared to be trying to stifle some highly inapppropriate laughter. The idiot mule said "Whoa, Grampaw, do it again, do it again!" Pahhh. I can't decide if he's more insolent or arrogant.
The woman said she felt sorry for me (how she prevaricates) and took me for a walk down our farm lane and around the loop. It restored my equanimity so successfully that on the way home I did some airs above the ground and threw in a few martial arts kicks at some shrubbery. TJ was extremely jealous, so that made it even more satisfying.