Post by unbridledperform on May 13, 2008 21:21:39 GMT -5
An unfortunate, but true story, as I experienced it. Written from Maggie's point of view.
I was born on a sunny spring day in 1986 on a large horse farm in Northern California. My dam was a mare out of Bold Ruler, my sire out of Northern Dancer, and they all said I was going to be great. As I grew in the grass through my first year, I looked "promising" with my big bay coloring and little white star. I romped with the other fillies and colts and showed off my knack for sprinting. Sometimes, I would show off for the people who would stop on their way in or out of my home. Always, I won our sprints.
In my second year, I began training. I loved the track and watching the older horses gallop around on its oval turf. Training was relentless, beginning at odd hours of the morning (no self-loving horse would be up at these hours!) and then I would turn out for some exercise.
The day came when my first bridle was fitted. I stood patiently, waiting for them to put the steel in mouth. I knew they would never do anything to hurt me. Then came the saddle. It smelled weird, but I let them put it on my back. When they tightened it around my belly, I kicked out, a little scared. The man patted my nose and told me it would be okay, so I calmed down. When he got on me, I was unsure of what he wanted. But I learned quickly. I'd seen this before with the older horses. Once they learned, they got to run, and I wanted to run.
I remember my first running day on the track. I felt the wind running through my mane and tail as they breezed me around the track. When the jockey got off, he looked happy, and so did my trainer. After all, I was promising. But as I raced against the others, I fell farther and farther behind. I was confused. I was always faster in the fields; they said I was promising. They said I had a career on the track. My third race was my last time on the track. I cried all the way home.
Another year passed, and I was just another riding horse. But I was the daughter's favorite, so they kept me around. When I was 6, I became broodmare number 65. I was a broodmare until I was 12, and they sold me for $4000 to a place far away in Washington. When I arrived there, I knew things were different. The air was colder, but the barn was the most dirty place I'd ever seen. I tried my best to avoid the mud but it was everywhere. For a few days, they just threw me my hay and left me in the stall. When I finally came out, the man threw a saddle on back and shoved a bit in my mouth and kicked me hard to get me to go. I began to canter away and he yanked on my mouth so I stopped. Then he began to hit me with the whip until I was walking and trembling and sweating. I was confused and scared. What did I do wrong? I still don't know. He put me away too tired to move and threw some hay in my stall. It was still dirty from my being in there. A week later, he brought me out to ride again. I tried my best, but I still didn't know what he wanted. He beat me with a crop until I bled. He called me all kinds of names. I didn't get fed that night. He said I was "worthless". It stayed this way for a few months, until I finally got it right and stopped responding to his every move. He still beat me, but I was used to it now. Sometimes, it didn't even hurt.
Two years later, a man came in a big truck with a big trailer. They loaded me up and the big man ignored my owner as he yelled at him. We left and I went to a nice place for awhile. It was clean and pretty. Everyone loved me and helped me get my weight back. I got a lot of treats. Everyone was so kind and loving.
When I was adopted, my new home was big and exciting. The people were nice and fed me every day without forgetting. They never hurt me and a year later I got a pasture mate! She was a white curly named Sugar. We spent four great years back country riding and enjoying the outdoors. Then, one day, the owners didn't feed us in the morning. And then they remembered and threw us one flake to share. I remember being hungry, but knowing these two wouldn't be like my last owner. They couldn't; they were too nice. But it didn't get any better. The woman came down to our pasture one day and told us all about the man being sick and having to go through surgery. And then she told us about her son and his wedding to a woman she didn't like.
Six months later, my last owners took me and Sugar from them. My ribs and hips were showing and I knew I must have looked horrible. My mane was all twisted and tangled, my tail was in knots, and I was covered in mud. It was really hard to get into the trailer with my feet as long as they were. But once I was in, there was hay! We went a new place. It was smaller, but there was green grass and another horse. A chestnut gelding named Leo. He pushed me around for a little bit, and Sugar would stand up for me. I was 22 now, and too old to fight back too much. Besides, I didn't have the energy. Both me and Sugar got food, more than we'd seen in months. The next day, the girl and her mother gave us baths and brushed us and combed our manes and tails out. For once, my mane was long and my tail was long and I was clean! We took pictures and the girls kept telling us how pretty we were. Then we went back into the pasture for more food!
I slowly got my energy back and started to gain weight. But it wasn't enough. After a certain point, I wouldn't gain any more weight, even though they tried everything they could. One day, I went down in the pasture. I don't know what happened, and I knew my owners were frustrated. They kept trying to help me up, and then told me to stay down, just in case. They called a vet and stayed with me throughout the night. It was cold, but they kept me under a blanket. It snowed, and they tried to get me underneath a tree. I don't think any of us slept all night. In the morning, I saw the vet come again. I tried to tell them that it was okay. I was ready to let go. But I wanted to stay for them. When the vet walked up, the girl came and put my head in her lap and brushed my face. She talked to me in quiet words, telling me it would all be over soon. If I could have, I would have told her thank you for the best six months I had known in a long time. I knew she needed to be there with me, but I would have told her to leave. Still, it was comforting knowing she was there until I slept.
Now I wait at the other side of Rainbow Bridge. I know that when they come, my last owners will love how beautiful and young I look and how fast I can run. I miss them, and I know they miss me.
I was born on a sunny spring day in 1986 on a large horse farm in Northern California. My dam was a mare out of Bold Ruler, my sire out of Northern Dancer, and they all said I was going to be great. As I grew in the grass through my first year, I looked "promising" with my big bay coloring and little white star. I romped with the other fillies and colts and showed off my knack for sprinting. Sometimes, I would show off for the people who would stop on their way in or out of my home. Always, I won our sprints.
In my second year, I began training. I loved the track and watching the older horses gallop around on its oval turf. Training was relentless, beginning at odd hours of the morning (no self-loving horse would be up at these hours!) and then I would turn out for some exercise.
The day came when my first bridle was fitted. I stood patiently, waiting for them to put the steel in mouth. I knew they would never do anything to hurt me. Then came the saddle. It smelled weird, but I let them put it on my back. When they tightened it around my belly, I kicked out, a little scared. The man patted my nose and told me it would be okay, so I calmed down. When he got on me, I was unsure of what he wanted. But I learned quickly. I'd seen this before with the older horses. Once they learned, they got to run, and I wanted to run.
I remember my first running day on the track. I felt the wind running through my mane and tail as they breezed me around the track. When the jockey got off, he looked happy, and so did my trainer. After all, I was promising. But as I raced against the others, I fell farther and farther behind. I was confused. I was always faster in the fields; they said I was promising. They said I had a career on the track. My third race was my last time on the track. I cried all the way home.
Another year passed, and I was just another riding horse. But I was the daughter's favorite, so they kept me around. When I was 6, I became broodmare number 65. I was a broodmare until I was 12, and they sold me for $4000 to a place far away in Washington. When I arrived there, I knew things were different. The air was colder, but the barn was the most dirty place I'd ever seen. I tried my best to avoid the mud but it was everywhere. For a few days, they just threw me my hay and left me in the stall. When I finally came out, the man threw a saddle on back and shoved a bit in my mouth and kicked me hard to get me to go. I began to canter away and he yanked on my mouth so I stopped. Then he began to hit me with the whip until I was walking and trembling and sweating. I was confused and scared. What did I do wrong? I still don't know. He put me away too tired to move and threw some hay in my stall. It was still dirty from my being in there. A week later, he brought me out to ride again. I tried my best, but I still didn't know what he wanted. He beat me with a crop until I bled. He called me all kinds of names. I didn't get fed that night. He said I was "worthless". It stayed this way for a few months, until I finally got it right and stopped responding to his every move. He still beat me, but I was used to it now. Sometimes, it didn't even hurt.
Two years later, a man came in a big truck with a big trailer. They loaded me up and the big man ignored my owner as he yelled at him. We left and I went to a nice place for awhile. It was clean and pretty. Everyone loved me and helped me get my weight back. I got a lot of treats. Everyone was so kind and loving.
When I was adopted, my new home was big and exciting. The people were nice and fed me every day without forgetting. They never hurt me and a year later I got a pasture mate! She was a white curly named Sugar. We spent four great years back country riding and enjoying the outdoors. Then, one day, the owners didn't feed us in the morning. And then they remembered and threw us one flake to share. I remember being hungry, but knowing these two wouldn't be like my last owner. They couldn't; they were too nice. But it didn't get any better. The woman came down to our pasture one day and told us all about the man being sick and having to go through surgery. And then she told us about her son and his wedding to a woman she didn't like.
Six months later, my last owners took me and Sugar from them. My ribs and hips were showing and I knew I must have looked horrible. My mane was all twisted and tangled, my tail was in knots, and I was covered in mud. It was really hard to get into the trailer with my feet as long as they were. But once I was in, there was hay! We went a new place. It was smaller, but there was green grass and another horse. A chestnut gelding named Leo. He pushed me around for a little bit, and Sugar would stand up for me. I was 22 now, and too old to fight back too much. Besides, I didn't have the energy. Both me and Sugar got food, more than we'd seen in months. The next day, the girl and her mother gave us baths and brushed us and combed our manes and tails out. For once, my mane was long and my tail was long and I was clean! We took pictures and the girls kept telling us how pretty we were. Then we went back into the pasture for more food!
I slowly got my energy back and started to gain weight. But it wasn't enough. After a certain point, I wouldn't gain any more weight, even though they tried everything they could. One day, I went down in the pasture. I don't know what happened, and I knew my owners were frustrated. They kept trying to help me up, and then told me to stay down, just in case. They called a vet and stayed with me throughout the night. It was cold, but they kept me under a blanket. It snowed, and they tried to get me underneath a tree. I don't think any of us slept all night. In the morning, I saw the vet come again. I tried to tell them that it was okay. I was ready to let go. But I wanted to stay for them. When the vet walked up, the girl came and put my head in her lap and brushed my face. She talked to me in quiet words, telling me it would all be over soon. If I could have, I would have told her thank you for the best six months I had known in a long time. I knew she needed to be there with me, but I would have told her to leave. Still, it was comforting knowing she was there until I slept.
Now I wait at the other side of Rainbow Bridge. I know that when they come, my last owners will love how beautiful and young I look and how fast I can run. I miss them, and I know they miss me.