03/05/2022
Certainly has been several of our stories here at Cross Run. The starving skeleton 4 yr old 17 h. gelding, the broken 4 yr. old sweetest young mare with knee chips not addressed, the ridling (called gelding) but not totally with unexplained aggressive behavior, the old mare standing in bewilderment at auction..... Yes they all came here plus many others. All well loved and treated the best we could. ❤
I apologize now if this causes you to shed a tear 😢
Seven is the number of years I serve my owner, trotting, walking, loping, quiet, and gentle. I carry her children, husband, friends, neighbors. I have plenty of hay, horse friends, and time to myself. Green pastures, blue skies, I am at peace.
Six is the number of months I carry on in pain after falling. I do it for her, anything for her. She is impatient with me. I try hard to keep up, but the pain slows me down. Every step hurts. No one wants to ride me, a new horse arrives to carry on in my place. I do not know this word: "useless."
Five is the number of hours I stand in the small pen at the auction. I hurt, I do not know these horses, I do not know these people. I'm far from my pasture. I search for comfort, switching weight off my painful leg, the people notice. I do not know this word: "lame."
Four is the number of times my value is calculated by my weight. I don't understand their words but I can read their eyes. Hard stares. I try to be invisible, but they see me. I do not know this word: "slaughter."
Three is the number of sniffs I take of your face through the pen before deciding you are kind and safe. I like your eyes, they are soft. I like your hands they are gentle. Please don't leave me here. I try to pick my feet up for you, it hurts. I try hard. I rest my muzzle in your hand.
Two is the number of minutes it takes for me to pass through another pen. I am scared, I am trapped, I am alone, people are shouting, it hurts to walk. A man is talking, his voice echo's all around me, there are so many people watching me, hard stares. Suddenly it's over.
One is the number of hours it takes before I walk onto a trailer. I am alone, I am scared, it is moving. The door opens, I hold my breath and brace at the light. It's you!! I stand still and breathe slow. Kind hands, soft words, I'm not afraid now.
Two is the number of xrays the vet takes while I stand quietly for you, anything for you. Many days have passed. I have energy now, my pain is less. I like my new pasture, I like my new stall, I like my new hay. I don't know why we have a vet but I stand still for his visits. So many visits. I do not know this word: "rehabilitation."
Three is the number of months before the pain is all the way gone. I am relaxed with you, we start to ride together. I'm afraid the pain will come back, but you are gentle, so I try. I try hard for you, anything for you.
Four is the number of weeks I learn a new way of riding. Another person rides me every day. I'm becoming strong, I understand my lessons, I am proud to work, I feel you are happy with me, visiting me and learning together. I do not know this word: "training."
Five is the number of years I work hard for you. We travel to shows, we work cows, we ride with friends. We do hundreds and hundreds of miles together. You trust me and I trust you, I give you everything I have, everything for you, anything for you. I memorize your rhythm, your looks, your moods. I know when to be wild and when to be still. We are a team.
Six is the number of minutes I try to hide the pain after a fall, but you see through me. I stand for the vet, still as a stone. The pain leaves but I sense your sadness. I remember a word from before when I had pain, "useless", but you never say that word. You no longer ride me but I see you every day, for carrots and treats and long walks. I relax again, you will not abandon me. This is a new way of being together. I do not know this word: "retired."
Seven is the number of breaths I take in your arms. It has been many years, we have grown old and wise and slow together. I lay down like so many times before but could not rise. You came right away. I tried for you, but I could not stand. You say its ok, sink down next to me. I breathe slow. You are very close, holding my head, weeping, I feel your sadness so I put my muzzle in your hand one last time to comfort you, anything for you. I breathe out. Green pastures, blue skies, I am at peace. I know this word: "loved."
The End
**Shared from a friend's page...author unknown to me....
