In a quiet valley surrounded by green hills, there lived a young mule named Milo.
Milo had a horse for a mother and a donkey for a father. He had sturdy legs, long ears, and a voice that could sound rather like a horse one moment and a donkey the next.
The people who worked at the farm knew Milo well.
They knew what he was.
He was a mule.
Milo knew it too.
He had never wondered whether he was a horse or a donkey. He simply knew himself as Milo, and Milo happened to be a mule.
What interested him much more was friendship.
There were several horses in the pasture, and Milo enjoyed spending time with them. He liked walking beside Clover, a gentle mare who was always happy to share the shade of the old oak tree.
One day, a young foal approached Milo.
The foal looked at his ears.
Then at his legs.
Then at his face.
“Are you a horse?” the foal asked.
“No,” Milo said.
“Are you a donkey?”
“No.”
The foal tilted his head.
“Then what are you?”
“A mule.”
“What is a mule?”
Milo thought for a moment.
“Well, that's a surprisingly complicated question.”
Clover laughed.
The foal did not seem troubled by the answer. He simply nodded.
“Oh.”
Then he walked beside Milo.
Apparently, that was enough.
A little farther down the valley lived Jasper, an old donkey who liked to think carefully before doing anything.
Milo enjoyed Jasper's company too.
“You stop and think too much,” Milo teased one afternoon.
“And you sometimes move before thinking,” Jasper replied.
“I think just enough.”
“You stopped for ten minutes because a butterfly landed on the path.”
“It looked suspicious.”
Jasper laughed.
They became good friends.
Milo also had friends who were not equines at all.
A barn cat liked sleeping against his warm side.
A gentle old cow enjoyed standing beside him while they watched the sunset.
The chickens followed him around the yard because Milo occasionally dropped pieces of grain.
Milo never wondered whether these animals were the right kind of friends.
They were simply comfortable together.
One afternoon, a little girl came to the farm with her family.
She had never seen a mule before.
She stood at the fence and stared at Milo.
“Is he a horse?” she asked.
The farmer smiled.
“He's a mule.”
“What's a mule?”
The farmer explained that a mule was the offspring of a horse and a donkey.
The girl looked at Milo again.
“So he's part horse and part donkey?”
“That's right.”
She thought about this for a few seconds.
Then she asked, “Does he know?”
The farmer laughed.
“I think he does.”
The girl walked closer to the fence.
Milo calmly came over to meet her.
“Hello, Milo.”
Milo gave a soft little sound.
The girl smiled.
“You're very nice.”
Milo lowered his head so she could gently touch his nose.
She did not seem bothered that he was different from the horses.
She did not seem bothered that he was different from the donkeys.
She had simply learned something new about the world.
As the afternoon grew warmer, the girl sat near the fence and watched Milo graze.
After a while, she asked, “Does Milo wish he were a horse?”
The farmer looked at Milo.
Milo was busy eating grass.
“No,” the farmer said. “I don't think so.”
“Does he wish he were a donkey?”
The farmer smiled.
“I don't think so either.”
The girl looked at Milo for a moment longer.
“Then what does he wish he was?”
Milo lifted his head.
He looked at the horses in the pasture.
He looked toward Jasper.
Then he looked at the little girl and the barn cat sleeping nearby.
He seemed perfectly content.
“A mule,” the farmer said.
The girl nodded.
“That's all?”
The farmer smiled.
“That's plenty.”
The sun began to sink behind the hills.
The horses gathered beneath the old oak tree. Jasper stood quietly near the fence. The chickens settled into the barn, and the cat curled up beside Milo once again.
Their bodies were different.
Their voices were different.
Their ways of life were different.
But none of that stopped them from being friends.
Milo knew exactly what he was.
He was a mule.
He did not need to become a horse.
He did not need to become a donkey.
He only needed to be Milo.
And, preferably, to have good company and plenty of good grass.
That was more than enough.
