After my sixteen year-old friend Juliane and I dropped Luta off at Bear Spot we both cried. I knew he'd be fine: I had made the best decision for my farm and him but it still weighed heavily on my heart. If I had spoken with the vet who first examined him I would not have taken him to Windflower. But for a variety of reasons I did not get this information until he was here. However, at least Bear Spot Farm now had two vet opinions on this pretty fellow.
I slept fitfully the following night: All I could think of were the horses, donkeys and mules that come into Camelot, New Jersey and New Holland, Pennsylvania auction houses. The condition and circumstances of these creatures is as varied as the individual animals themselves. Some are covered with rain rot and mud, foundered, wrecked with navicular, coughing with pneumonia or a hideous combination. But some seem to be in fine fettle. Who gives them up? The reasons are as varied as their condition. Some are no longer serviceable--old, tired and broken. Others released for economic reasons: By broken hearts that can no longer afford them or by those who have no heart. Word is out that there is actually one monster--I understand she believes herself to be a woman---who travels around the mid-Atlantic states answering ads listing free horses in such publications as Craig's List. She says she is looking for a horse with whom to surprise her non-existent daughter. Arrangements are made, hugs are exchanged, and she then takes the poor creature straight to the auction. She receives a check for slightly less than meat market price.
I turned on the light, walked to my study and googled Camelot Auction. I scrolled down the pictures of the over twenty available horses, ponies and one sweet-faced mule. Heartbreaking. I went to bed but poor sleep was soon overtaken by a terrible migraine. Okay, okay, all right, I knew the cure. I got back on the computer and scrolled down to a head shot of a horse with a chestnut blaze and the loveliest brown eyes. "#613" CHESTNUT MARE? 14.2 AND 2 YEARS. RAN THROUGH LOOSE. ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED BABY. THIN $60
"Sixty dollars?" Luta's meat market price had been $355.00 and he stood just three inches taller than this little girl. She must be thin, indeed. My 15 year-old shepherd mix shoved her head under my right hand. She needed to go out--again. Bo's health was failing. If I didn't lift her hind end out the front door and stabilize her front end on the steps, it would buckle and and she would fall. But she was still happy and the pain from her arthritis well-mitigated by medication. She was not ready to leave us yet. I grabbed a coat and went out with her. The cold February sky was black and awash with stars, the white snow yellowed and soiled by my declining canine friend who could now only travel a few feet from her front door. By the time Bo was ready, and I lifted her back up the the step, I had already decided to call Camelot in the morning and see if number "613" was still available.
I slept fitfully the following night: All I could think of were the horses, donkeys and mules that come into Camelot, New Jersey and New Holland, Pennsylvania auction houses. The condition and circumstances of these creatures is as varied as the individual animals themselves. Some are covered with rain rot and mud, foundered, wrecked with navicular, coughing with pneumonia or a hideous combination. But some seem to be in fine fettle. Who gives them up? The reasons are as varied as their condition. Some are no longer serviceable--old, tired and broken. Others released for economic reasons: By broken hearts that can no longer afford them or by those who have no heart. Word is out that there is actually one monster--I understand she believes herself to be a woman---who travels around the mid-Atlantic states answering ads listing free horses in such publications as Craig's List. She says she is looking for a horse with whom to surprise her non-existent daughter. Arrangements are made, hugs are exchanged, and she then takes the poor creature straight to the auction. She receives a check for slightly less than meat market price.
I turned on the light, walked to my study and googled Camelot Auction. I scrolled down the pictures of the over twenty available horses, ponies and one sweet-faced mule. Heartbreaking. I went to bed but poor sleep was soon overtaken by a terrible migraine. Okay, okay, all right, I knew the cure. I got back on the computer and scrolled down to a head shot of a horse with a chestnut blaze and the loveliest brown eyes. "#613" CHESTNUT MARE? 14.2 AND 2 YEARS. RAN THROUGH LOOSE. ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED BABY. THIN $60
"Sixty dollars?" Luta's meat market price had been $355.00 and he stood just three inches taller than this little girl. She must be thin, indeed. My 15 year-old shepherd mix shoved her head under my right hand. She needed to go out--again. Bo's health was failing. If I didn't lift her hind end out the front door and stabilize her front end on the steps, it would buckle and and she would fall. But she was still happy and the pain from her arthritis well-mitigated by medication. She was not ready to leave us yet. I grabbed a coat and went out with her. The cold February sky was black and awash with stars, the white snow yellowed and soiled by my declining canine friend who could now only travel a few feet from her front door. By the time Bo was ready, and I lifted her back up the the step, I had already decided to call Camelot in the morning and see if number "613" was still available.
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