This is a story, full of wisdom, which I have heard many times. Listen carefully…

Down Kentucky way there was an old fellow that owned a farm, and on this farm he kept quite a few animals, including an old gray mule that had long twitchy wandering ears. The left ear usually pointed skyward while the other ear tended to move about pointing to various spots on the horizon, or toward anyone that was talking to him, rather like a hearing horn, as though the mule wanted to be sure that he heard what was being said correctly. This here old farmer, Duwayne by name, tended to talk to all his animals and although some of them seemed to respond to his intentions, he always felt that the only one that actually listened was the old gray mule. Maybe it was because of that directional ear. In any case Duwayne formed something of a bond with the old mule, which could be stubborn as all get out, just like many a mule is.

The neighboring farm was bought by a younger man named Bob, who struggled to get his crops in the first year. Bob noticed that Duwayne was well organized and got everything done in a timely fashion. Day after day, week after week, Duwayne was out working his fields with the old gray mule alongside, helping out. Bob mulled this over and come February he paid a visit to Duwayne one cold sunny day.

“Duwayne, I see that you and the old gray mule get everything done on your place and I am always behind. Should I buy a mule, or what?”

“Well, Bob, if you think buying a mule gets you caught up, I suppose I could sell you Loverboy. He should have four or five more good years left in him.”

“Loverboy? How did an old gray mule end up with a handle like that?”

“I called him ‘Boy’ when he was young, seemed kinda small to me at the time, but once he growed up I noticed that he responded to love. I feed him brown sugar, and scratch between his ears, and sweet talk the dickens out of him. As long as I give him a lot of love he is a hard working son of a gun.”

“What’s your price on Loverboy, Duwayne?”

“Twenty-five bucks.”

“It’s a deal.” Bob stuck out his big meaty hand and old Duwayne, a much smaller man, shook it.

“One last thing, Bob. Don’t forget to sweet talk old Loverboy. You want to get a lot out of a mule you gotta treat him right.”

“Okay.”

A few days later Bob decides to give his south field an early turnin’. He brings Loverboy out of the barn and hooks him up to the plow. “Okay, Loverboy,” he says into that wandering ear, “today we are going to go plow the south field. I love you and I need you to help me out. Okay?” And he dutifully scratched between Loverboy’s ears. He grabbed the reins and strode out, only to be brought up short when Loverboy moved not one inch. “Hmmph!” he said and went into the barn to get a handful of brown sugar. Returning he fed the sugar to Loverboy. “Now let’s go out to the south field, hunh, Loverboy? You know I love you very much,” he wheedled. Grabbing the reins again he headed out, only to be brought up short again as Loverboy once again did not move. Bob paused to review the instructions that Duwayne had given him; he couldn’t imagine what he was leaving out. For about fifteen minutes he tried more sweet-talking and got nowhere. He was afraid to get nasty in front of Loverboy, although he was really tempted to curse at him. Finally, his ire rising by the minute, he gave up and headed for Duwayne’s farm for an explanation.

“That dang mule won’t move an inch,” he complained as soon as he caught up to Duwayne, who was patching a fence panel in his orchard. “I tried sweet talking him right and left, telling him how much I love him (which makes me feel foolish as hell, a grown man professing my love for some damn ornery mule). I even scratched between his ears and brought him two helpings of brown sugar! What the heck do I have to do to get old Loverboy moving?”

“I know just what the problem is,” said Duwayne, “I’ll go back with you and take care of it.”

“Great,” says Bob without a clue as to what he has done wrong but figuring he will learn something.

Back to Bob’s barn they go. Duwayne goes into the barn and comes back out with a four-foot piece of two-by-four. Walking up to Loverboy he gives him a whack right between the eyes.

Bob is stunned. “I thought you said…” and his voice trailed off.

“I love you,” Duwayne whispered in Loverboy’s wandering ear, “Let’s go!”

Loverboy shook his head and started walking up the road.

“What? What?” asked Bob.

“It’s simple, Bob. I told you just how to handle old Loverboy, but sometimes you have to get his attention first.”