When I Say "Jesus," It's Because I'm Praying
And that's exactly what I said when I saw her in the field.
From a distance, she didn't look so bad.
Then she came over, and I saw anatomical parts of a horse I don't ever, ever want to see.
She and her baby were in a roped in area of about an acre. No shelter. No water. What looked like half a flake of hay was demolished in the corner by the gate (for non-horsey people- horses should get about a bale a day. A bale has about 10-12 flakes, depending on the size of the bale. One flake is like making a meal of a Saltine cracker).
The guy came out and signed the bill of sale while I petted her. She came right up to the fence line, and looked at me with calm blue eyes. "Are you going to fix this?" she seemed to ask.
"Let's go for a ride," I said. I remembered Lisa telling me in the car- drilling it in my head- "don't cry don't cry for God's sake don't cry I NEED YOU NOT TO CRY."
Her bright pink halter dug into the scant flesh on her face. Lisa hooked a lead rope to the halter and led her towards the gate.
"They don't walk through the gate," the guy said. "We gotta take the fence down."
"Let's take it all down!" the little boy with him shouted. "Then we can finally go sledding!"
He was ignored. Mainly because even I can't bring myself to beat children.
She balked at first. I don't blame her. From the kill pen at Sugar Creek to starving and cold in a field... surely she didn't have much hope that things could get better.
I grabbed a pan of grain and rattled it at her.
You know that face that kids make, when they see a wrapped present, and they really, really want to hope it is exactly what they wanted, but they're afraid it might be underwear?
She made the equine version of that face. And stepped towards the grain.
It took only a little coaxing to get her on the trailer. There was food in there.
Her colt was a different story.
I leaned towards him, and he bolted. Forming a barrier, we chuted him onto the trailer. Like his mother, he was excited to see hay available.
"We ain't never touched him,"
Really? He's got a halter on- how'd that happen?
Well, obvious. They wrassled him to the ground and forced it on him with someone laying on top of him.
Lisa backed the trailer out of the driveway with some difficulty, barking orders for me to call this person, text this person- aligning her troops- all while helping direct her out of the driveway.
I was shaking so hard, I fucked up with her phone and ended up calling her friend Barb, who was really nice about it. I did well with the ditches and directions, though.
Back at the barn, they unloaded nicely. The mare followed me quietly into the barn light and Tianna's headlights so we could take some initial pictures. She calmly walked in her makeshift stall in the lean-to, and didn't object when I pulled out the weight tape to measure her weight.
She weighs about 807 pounds. For comparison, my slightly underweight Dora, who is three inches shorter, weighs about 970 pounds. Bragg, who is five inches taller, is 1234 pounds.
Lisa asked the guy, "I heard they call her Cherokee?" The guy said, "Oh I dunno. Whatever."
I thought calling her Calista would be pretty. It means "beautiful" in Greek. That, and when Tianna was warning me to not get kicked by her, all that ran through my head was "You gonna be afraid of a skeleton? Would you run away from Calista Flockheart?" from Scary Movie 2.
I had to think of something funny, or I woulda lost it.
We're kinda kicking it around.
Anyway, then we silently cleaned the stalls inside the barn, and fed and watered everyone. I gave lots of luvvins to Braggley and Dodo, who were pretty sweet right back.
I hope she makes it. I really do. If you're interested in following her story, she's on Mystery Lane Farm's Facebook page. I will warn you, there are pictures.
Tianna says she's seen worse, and fixed worse. Of course, we're all worried about colic, and stroke, and protein burn. But damn.
It's the sort of thing that you can't just walk away from if you even have a single ventricle of a heart.
I'm not going to actively hit anyone up, but anyone who is moved to send thoughts, prayers, donations, or supplies can do so by looking up the Facebook site.
I still haven't cried, but man. My heart really, really hurts.
From a distance, she didn't look so bad.
Then she came over, and I saw anatomical parts of a horse I don't ever, ever want to see.
She and her baby were in a roped in area of about an acre. No shelter. No water. What looked like half a flake of hay was demolished in the corner by the gate (for non-horsey people- horses should get about a bale a day. A bale has about 10-12 flakes, depending on the size of the bale. One flake is like making a meal of a Saltine cracker).
The guy came out and signed the bill of sale while I petted her. She came right up to the fence line, and looked at me with calm blue eyes. "Are you going to fix this?" she seemed to ask.
"Let's go for a ride," I said. I remembered Lisa telling me in the car- drilling it in my head- "don't cry don't cry for God's sake don't cry I NEED YOU NOT TO CRY."
Her bright pink halter dug into the scant flesh on her face. Lisa hooked a lead rope to the halter and led her towards the gate.
"They don't walk through the gate," the guy said. "We gotta take the fence down."
"Let's take it all down!" the little boy with him shouted. "Then we can finally go sledding!"
He was ignored. Mainly because even I can't bring myself to beat children.
She balked at first. I don't blame her. From the kill pen at Sugar Creek to starving and cold in a field... surely she didn't have much hope that things could get better.
I grabbed a pan of grain and rattled it at her.
You know that face that kids make, when they see a wrapped present, and they really, really want to hope it is exactly what they wanted, but they're afraid it might be underwear?
She made the equine version of that face. And stepped towards the grain.
It took only a little coaxing to get her on the trailer. There was food in there.
Her colt was a different story.
I leaned towards him, and he bolted. Forming a barrier, we chuted him onto the trailer. Like his mother, he was excited to see hay available.
"We ain't never touched him,"
Really? He's got a halter on- how'd that happen?
Well, obvious. They wrassled him to the ground and forced it on him with someone laying on top of him.
Lisa backed the trailer out of the driveway with some difficulty, barking orders for me to call this person, text this person- aligning her troops- all while helping direct her out of the driveway.
I was shaking so hard, I fucked up with her phone and ended up calling her friend Barb, who was really nice about it. I did well with the ditches and directions, though.
Back at the barn, they unloaded nicely. The mare followed me quietly into the barn light and Tianna's headlights so we could take some initial pictures. She calmly walked in her makeshift stall in the lean-to, and didn't object when I pulled out the weight tape to measure her weight.
She weighs about 807 pounds. For comparison, my slightly underweight Dora, who is three inches shorter, weighs about 970 pounds. Bragg, who is five inches taller, is 1234 pounds.
Lisa asked the guy, "I heard they call her Cherokee?" The guy said, "Oh I dunno. Whatever."
I thought calling her Calista would be pretty. It means "beautiful" in Greek. That, and when Tianna was warning me to not get kicked by her, all that ran through my head was "You gonna be afraid of a skeleton? Would you run away from Calista Flockheart?" from Scary Movie 2.
I had to think of something funny, or I woulda lost it.
We're kinda kicking it around.
Anyway, then we silently cleaned the stalls inside the barn, and fed and watered everyone. I gave lots of luvvins to Braggley and Dodo, who were pretty sweet right back.
I hope she makes it. I really do. If you're interested in following her story, she's on Mystery Lane Farm's Facebook page. I will warn you, there are pictures.
Tianna says she's seen worse, and fixed worse. Of course, we're all worried about colic, and stroke, and protein burn. But damn.
It's the sort of thing that you can't just walk away from if you even have a single ventricle of a heart.
I'm not going to actively hit anyone up, but anyone who is moved to send thoughts, prayers, donations, or supplies can do so by looking up the Facebook site.
I still haven't cried, but man. My heart really, really hurts.