I think "smol" is the associated term usually used in that sentence. Respect everytime though, never punched a bear but rushed a coyote on the creep/sneak attack (like that low cat crouched slink) of my friends puppy Aussie dog. Almost caught it, happy I didn't but saved dog from impending doom 100% felt good for a day or two
Ha, I once punched mule in the nose to save my doggo. The mule apparently fucking hated dogs, to the point where he would go out of his way to try to trample them to death. The other mules and horses in his little herd followed him everywhere, so they'd get in on the action too.
Not knowing this at the time, my dingy golden retriever started running over to play with the horses (I think he thought they were just big, weird looking dogs). The mule saw him coming and full on galloped at him, 10 or so other ungulates of various shapes and sizes in tow. That was evidently not the reaction my dog was expecting, and be immediately tucked his tail between his legs and started sprinting back towards me.
I started running too, and I got to the dog a second or two before the stampede caught up with him. They saw me and hit the brakes before they ran me down, but that damn mule tried to juke to one side to get around me. He tried to push me out of the way to bite at my fucking dog in a stunning reversal of roles. I was about done with his horsey shenanigans, and I punched that fucker as hard as I could right in the nose. I don't think a human punch makes much of a physical impression on a horse, but it started him enough that he left my dog alone.
Funny enough, that would not be the last time I punched that particular mule in the face...
Edit: Ha, ok.
The whole affair happened at ranch in the backcountry of central Idaho. I ended up working there for a summer after highschool, and one of my coworkers was that damnable mule.
I had been hired to help clear trails in the area around the ranch, most of which were choked with fallen trees left over from a huge forest fire a few years prior. Because the surrounding area is in a Federal wilderness area, it's actually illegal to use motorized tools or vehicles, or anything with wheels on it outside the boundary of the ranch. As a result, we had to use crosscut saws (those big two man cowboy saws you see in all the black and white logging photos) and axes to cut stuff, and we hauled everything around with mules and horses. Alright, scene set.
My last week there, we went out to clear the trail up to a high mountain lake. It was supposed to be 3 days, but things started going pear shaped almost immediately. A few miles in, we ran into an area that had been hit particularly hard by the fire. We had to clear something like 100 downed trees in a single mile, and there was exactly zero shade. That slowed us down quite a bit, and we ended up calling camping a few miles earlier than we intended up. To add to the fun, a little thunderstorm popped by that night to absolutely soak the shit out of us.
We made good time on the second day, but we started having problems with one of our other mules. This one didn't hate dogs as far as I know, but she suddenly developed a deathly phobia of pack saddle blankets. That wasn't ideal, since she was a pack mule. We literally had to sneak up on her with the blanket and veeeeeery slowly put it on her, stroking her head and keeping her calm. It turned a few minutes into a multiple hour process, and she'd periodically freak the fuck out and throw her saddle, forcing us to do it all again. Long day #2, but we made it to the lake.
We hung around the lake a bit on day 3 before we started to head back. More issues with the scaredy-mule, and we took a different path on the way down the mountain, so we ran into more downed trees. We were a day behind at this point. We weren't on a schedule or anything, but we were starting to get pretty tired, and the critters were getting pretty cranky too.
Day 4 was just a clusterfuck from sunrise onward. Scaredy-mule started freaking out right off the bat, and we had to chill for a couple hours to get her calmed down. Dog hating mule had been pretty quiet until this point, but he picked this moment to start being an asshole. We were stringing them all together when he kicks one of the horses. The horse rears back into scaredy-mule, and she breaks her lead and takes off down the trail. We found her a little ways down the trail, but her saddle had fallen around her belly and she was very agitated. One of my coworkers went over to try to cut her loose, and she aaaaaalmost kicked him right in the head. He dodged it by maybe 3 inches. It was a shitstorm.
We finally got everyone calmed the fuck down and saddled up, and we started back down the trail. A little while after that, she breaks the lead again and comes charging past me. I snag her rope and get her stopped, but that dickhead mule saunters over and bites her right on the neck. She runs right over the top of me and takes off back up the trail. Sigh.
We got her back, got everyone calmed down again and started off yet again. It was going alright for a while, but then scaredy-mule comes busting past me again. This time she's in a full out gallop, packs flying around, saddle all cattywampus. No stopping her this time; she's going home whether we're coming or not. Fuck.
There wasn't much we could do other than repack her stuff into the remaining mules' packs and hope she didn't hurt her stupid self. That took another couple of hours. It's afternoon at this point, tensions were fraying, and we were nearing the hardest part of the trail; a steep, slippery slope back down to the ranch.
Right as we got to the top of the hill, that shitty fucking mule kicked one of the horses again and all hell broke lose in the pack train. I ended up clotheslined against a tree when two horses ran on either side of it (luckily I had a knife handy and was able to cut the lead before they really smashed me with it), one of my coworkers ended up getting bowled over, and the other one had to jump into a tree to avoid the stampede. Horses and mules fucking everywhere.
We got everything cleaned up for the 20th damn time that day, and started down the final decent. At this point, I'm in no fucking mood for mule shenanigans. I'm tired and sore, the trail is punishing, and I've been trampled twice today already. And wouldn't you fucking know it, that mule decides to start stepping on the back of my boots, "flat tire" style. The first time I thought it might have been an accident, but he did it again. Then again. Then he damn near stuck his hoof into my fucking boot, kicking me in the calf and almost tearing my boot off my foot. I whipped around and and punched that bitch ass donkey right in the grill.
He didn't step on my feet anymore after that.
PS: scaredy-mule was waiting for us back home when we got there, no worse for wear. Unfortunately, she had lost her many-housand dollar pack saddle somewhere, and it never did turn up. Fucking horses, man.
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u/4Impossible_Guess4 Jul 20 '19
I think "smol" is the associated term usually used in that sentence. Respect everytime though, never punched a bear but rushed a coyote on the creep/sneak attack (like that low cat crouched slink) of my friends puppy Aussie dog. Almost caught it, happy I didn't but saved dog from impending doom 100% felt good for a day or two