I thought I would begin this day's blog entry with this photo of head trainer Juliane getting bussed by our red valentine--Dolly! It was late one night exactly a year ago today, just at Valentine's Day, that I woke from a fitful sleep. I couldn't stop thinking of the photos of all those horses I viewed on the website of a wholesale horse dealer in New Jersey. In four days I knew most of them would all be packed into stock trailers for a miserable ride to either Canada and Mexico, where they would be slaughtered for horse meat. I clicked on my computer and scrolled through the pictures. Which one? Saying yes to one meant saying no to all the others. I kept returning to number 613. It was her eye--partially obscured by the reflection of the rude but potentially life-saving flash of a rescue group member's camera--that kept pulling me in:
The description listed her as one "terrified baby--needs groceries." She certainly did. Every bone was visible. (For Dolly's story at length, see Windflower Weekly blogs for February 2011). However, the "baby" part was incorrect: a look at her teeth put her between three and a half and four. Yet, the "terrified" part was accurate--very! Dolly had never been handled in her life. She was as wild as a mustang, except she didn't flee from people on sight. She'd obviously seen humans from whatever her undoubtedly sub-standard confines had been. She sure wouldn't let you near her. She sure does now!
Here she is--still garbed in winter fuzz--having her first ride in the dressage arena with Juliane on board. You can see by Dolly's relaxed body and soft eye that her trust in her rider is complete.
So I would have to rank Dolly's year with us this year's favorite Valentine story . She is a wonder!
Who is Saint Valentine?
There have been many animals--not just horses, of course, --who have brought Windflower Farm significant joy. But before I move to a sampling of them I thought I'd just write a paragraph or two about Valentine's Day. Who was Saint Valentine, that I, and so many others, including the Hallmark Corporation, countless florists, jewelers, and chocolatiers, have benefited from his life?
In the the third century CE, Claudius II, better known as Claudius Gothicus, ruled the Roman empire. Now Claudius did not like Christians, and when he learned that the priest Valentine was not only providing them succor but joining them in holy matrimony, he had him arrested and tossed into the clink. Claudius quite liked Father Valentine, that is until the priest shone his Christian light on the emperor himself and urged him to convert. His tolerance level now surpassed, Claudius sentenced Valentine to death by stoning and clubbing. However, this bothersome priest would not go so easily. Another method was needed. So, he was dragged to Flaminian Gate and beheaded. February 14th marked the date of this martyrdom. Though, like the birth of Jesus, this is likely to be incorrect. (Note: somewhere between the site of the failed stoning and clubbing and the site of his beheading, Father Valentine found the time and presence of mind--not to mention all the strength he had left in his poor battered body--to restore the sight and hearing of his jailer's blind and deaf daughter.)
Quite a number of years--a millennium--would have to tick by before he became the patron saint of lovers. It seems it was not until Geoffrey Chaucer's poem Parlement of Foules (Parliament of Birds, c.1380) that Saint Valentine began to get some press. However, his readership remained limited until his story became attached to sentimental custom. It should be noted that in 1969, due to the lack of detailed factual information about his life, he was removed for the Catholic Church's General Calendar for universal liturgical veneration. However, he still enjoys being listed on their official roster of saints.
Ironically, in 1537 that lecherous murderer of women Henry VIII declared by Royal Charter that February the 14th be known as Valentine's Day. No wonder Queen Elizabeth, his daughter, never married!
Now, of course, Valentine's Day, is not just for lovers. Children get valentine treats and cards from parents. Parents get school-crafted cards. Brothers send cards to sisters (sometimes), and sisters to brothers (more often than sometimes). Grown children send cards to parents, little children to parents and to grandparents (some prodding necessary here.) For certain businesses it's a banner day. But most of all--you'd better not forget your wife or sweetheart!
Windflower Hearts
Here at Windflower, hearts are not only worn on our sleeves but our pets as well. Here is Annie, my daughter Marleny's dear, sweet, and now, sadly departed, friend:
And Alec's pup Toby, endlessly cheerful and faithful (now also sorely missed):
Sometimes our hearts wear kittens!
And sometimes our kittens wear kittens with a heart backdrop:
Sometimes the heart can be seen:
Sometimes not!
But that unseen heart saves another heart which blossoms and is soon released.
Sometimes our hearts run riot with the sheer joy of life!
And sometimes wild hearts are just passing through!
And sometimes tamed hearts must wait!
This is the statue of the Akita "Hachiko," which stands just outside Shibuya Station, Tokyo. Someone placed a real live Akita pup between his legs. I snapped this thirty-nine years ago when I was twenty-three, but Hachiko is still there and will be there long after I'm gone. Hachiko followed his master, a Japanese University professor, every day to the train station. He would wait there until the man's evening return, and everyone in the station knew it. But one day late in WWII, his friend did not return: he had died in that day's fire bombings. For the rest of his natural life Hachiko lived on the station platform, watching the passengers get off every train, hoping that his friend the professor would return at last. Hachiko was buried at the station, and a statue erected in honor of his loyalty. Everyone who gets off at Shibuya station meets their loved one or friend at "Hachiko."
And, speaking of waiting hearts (you know this if you've read the last two blog entries), this heart waited six years, for twenty-two hours a day, in a cage for his heart's wish to come true: and it did!
A Very Broken Heart!
I know that Valentine's Day has now become a celebration of hearts who love and are loved, but I must now turn to the subject of a broken heart--a totally broken heart in a very broken body. This a heart that can't wait. When I was little, I believed it when Peter Pan (played by Mary Martin) said we could all save Tinkerbell, dying at the hands of Captain Hook, by clapping our hands. I and my brothers clapped as hard as we could. We cheered as little Tink's light got brighter and brighter. And then she was saved. But it will take more than clapping to save this heart and to put an end to the heartless people who so badly mistreated him as well as many other animals we will never see. Meet "Highway":
This dog was left to die on a Mississippi Delta highway by some miserable creature, who, if genetically tested, would be found to be human. This is what is known in pit bull fighting as a "bait" dog. His--or her--muzzle is taped shut and he is restrained by a handler. So, there is no escape. The "job" of the bait dog is to receive vicious bites from other pit bulls in order to increase their "gameness," their desire to kill. More often than not, when there's nothing left of them from all the fights they have endured, these dogs are given "a bath." What does this term mean? They are doused with a bucket of water. Then gator clips at the end of an electric cord are attached to their ears. The cord is plugged in and they are electrocuted. They are occasionally dumped and once in a blue moon a police raid comes across one. But most of the time we never get to see these poor creatures.
What these dogs are compelled to endure is hideous, it is monstrous, and it goes on all around the United States, mostly in the south. It is here in Massachusetts. Dog fighting is a felony in all fifty states, but it is highly secretive and difficult to infiltrate. The FBI rarely dedicates resources to catch these cruel lowlifes, whose own children are often in attendance. Lyrics from the South Pacific song come to mind.
You've got to be taught to hate before it's too late,
Before you're six or seven or eight--
You've got to be carefully taught.
Come on, law enforcement: if not for the dogs, for the children! This behavior, at the least, constitutes introducing minors to felonious and cruel behavior. Those who abuse animals so often go on to abuse fellow humans.
I will write more on pit bull fighting in another blog entry. The immediate concern--the concern of all us who know of Highway's plight--is to keep him from being euthanized, getting him the veterinary care he needs, and, finally, getting him the life he deserves. Mankind owes this dog.
As you can imagine the care needed to bring this poor boy back from the brink of death has been expensive. In addition to his obvious dog fight injuries, he has heart worms and parasites. And it has just been determined that the will need yet another operation. He has entropion--a condition in which his lower lashes curve into his eyes causing him to blink and squint constantly in pain. Dogs who become bait dogs are usually the ones who are not good fighters. Obviously, those who can't see to defend themselves effectively are also deemed good candidates for the job.
Please, please send anything you can--no amount is too small--to either www.arrf-arrf.org which has a PayPal account set up for him. (Ann Fratesi who first got the call about Highway is a volunteer there) or you can mail a check (please mark it "For Highway") directly to:
Greenville Animal Clinic
1902 Highway 1 South
Greenville, Mississippi 38701
Highway will need ongoing care and, unless a foster home can be found, will have to stay in a kennel while he heals. So the vet bills and kennel costs is what we must defray. If this cannot be done it is possible that he will be euthanized.
And then a real home must be found--a loving, warm, nurturing home! Given what he has been through Highway cannot go to a home with other dogs. He doesn't growl at all dogs but he does growl at some. And who can blame him! But how is he with humans? The following You Tube taken at the vet's office will tell you more about his character than I ever could:
When I first heard Highway's story and saw those awful awful pictures I knew I would need to write about him in my blog. But this blog was intended to be about love, not about vicious and cruel depravity. But in the end, and if all goes well--and I and others a determined that it will--it is very much about love. It is about the love of a woman who did not drive by but who stopped on the highway. She picked this near dead and bleeding boy up, loaded him in her car, and drove him to the animal hospital. It is about the love of Dr. Edwin Nordan, who immediately began to administer care though there was no owner to guarantee that the care would be reimbursed, and its about Ann Fratesi, of aarf aarf. org, a small cadre of volunteers who work to stem the tide of animal abuse and neglect in the Mississippi Delta region. And its also about love of those many people who are currently networking on poor Highway's behalf.
And last, and certainly not least, it is about Highway himself who, despite the tortures and betrayals he has endured at the hand of mankind, has nothing but love and copious kisses to offer. No love is more unconditional than his. Please help him.
I wish you the happiest of Valentine's Day. May roses, chocolates, and most of all love, keep coming your way. Thank you for reading The Windflower Weekly.
-- Ainslie Sheridan
I wish to acknowledge the following for providing information for the historical portion of this blog:
1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valentine%27s_Day
2. http://www.novareinna.com/festive/saintval.html
