The Day I Had to Rescue a Horse

Some of you know that I've been fretting for months over the fate of three horses down the road from us.  We've donated hay, we've watched the animal control truck drive by (on more than one occasion), and we've waited.  Last week as temperatures dropped, the wind picked up, and sleet dripped from the sky steady and constant, I couldn't stop thinking about the horses.  Especially the older one, who has become a rack of bones, not destined to survive through the winter, and not enough fat to keep her warm in the elements. 

On Thanksgiving day, on the way to my parents, I made Paul drive up there.  Piles of rubble, mud, abandoned junk cars, and random mountains of metal line the rough dirt driveway.  In the middle of this mess, is a small muddy lot with over a foot of manure built up, and not a blade of grass to be found. This is where the horses live. 

I carried with me a high quality all-weather horse blanket.  I knocked on the door and when they opened it I apologized for bothering them so early on Thanksgiving morning.  Then I talked to them about the older, sickest horse.  They said the vet had been out and told them there was nothing to be done for her.  I explained that she was too skinny to stay warm.  I asked if I could put a blanket on her to keep her more comfortable.  They were thankful.  These people - they mean well.  They don't mean to make the horses suffer.  I want to believe that they want to do right by them.  They just don't have the knowledge or the money to do so.

I walked through the muck, glad it was frozen so that I wouldn't sink knee-deep in the piles of manure.  The older mare didn't object as I slipped the warm, thick blanket over her skeletal frame.  As I tightened the buckles beneath her belly, one of the young horses came over.  A little bay mare, malnourished, stuck her small nose under the belly of the older one, and gently sniffed my fingers as I fussed with the buckles.  I looked at the little mare.  She looked at me, with curiosity and hope in her eyes.  She wasn't too far gone - not yet - she still had a chance.  The little one hadn't given up.  Not yet.

All day long, as I enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner with my family, I thought of her.  I remembered her sweet brown eyes.  I thought of how she wasn't eating that day - Thanksgiving -  there was no hay in her enclosure, and hadn't been for a couple of days.

After two days of obsessing, I went back.  Armed with 50 pound bags of alfalfa cubes and some cash, I knocked on the door again.  I was happy to see that a round bale of hay had been purchased since I was there last.  I offered and bartered.  Successfully.  And I walked back home with a weak little mare by my side; my hopes for her high. 

Meet Francie.

I will update you on her progress as we go.  She has a long road ahead of her.  But she has a good head on her shoulders, under those endearing pointy ears. 

And I haven't given up on helping the other two.  I have plans for them yet.  Stay tuned.