The Blessing

It was dark in the barn at the end of the day. Beside his proud dam a newborn foal lay. The mare she stood and bowed down her head, the foal tried to listen to the words that she said Her words were too soft for his small ears to hear. He struggled to his feet and she drew him near. "Mamma, I am not sleepy, I want to have fun. I want to run with the others and lay in the sun."   "Hush, little one, this is the time that we pray, for those who suffer at the end of the day."

"Dear Lord, we are thankful for all we receive,
the world's not as hard a place as we once believed.

No longer must we hunger, shiver or thirst,
our needs are now met, our ills are now nursed. 

But there are too many horses, unfortunate still,
who survive every day, through force of sheer will.

They never are petted, pampered or brushed,
have never had humans in which they could trust.

No blankets, no turnouts, no time just for play,
and Lord how they suffer at the end of the day. 

No child to whisper soft words in their ear,
no owner that comforts them, when they know fear.

No soft hands to pet them on neck and on back,
good food and warm shelter's not all that they lack.

They get no attention when they are not well.
Locked in their stalls filled with filth, they already know Hell.

Often beaten and starved they hang down their head,
to wait sweet release that only comes when they're dead.

They get no soft bedding on which to lay,
little food and no love at the end of the day."

The foal's eyes widened with fear and concern.  The mare nuzzled him gently and licked him in turn.  "My son, do not worry, you'll never know hunger.  Your days will be secure and filled up with wonder.  Not long ago I was one of those suffering, deeply in pain, no kindness, no soft words, no shelter from rain.  Before you were born our rescuers arrived, and I knew when you came that you'd surely thrive. Sleep now, my child, our Angels are near," softly she neighed, "and know we are truly thankful at the end of the day"

author unknown
 

HOW COULD YOU?

When I was a foal, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh.  You called me your “child” and despite a number of kicks and bucks, I became your best friend.  Whenever I nibbled too much on your fingers or ripped out your pockets looking for carrots or apples, you’d shake your head at me and ask, “How could you?” but then you would relent and rub my muzzle and scratch under my mane.

My ground work training took a little bit longer than expected and it took awhile for me to get used to the saddle on my back because you were terribly busy...but we worked on that together.  I remember those many nights of “muzzling” you when would tell me your confidences. I listened intently, feeling what you felt.  I sensed your sorrows and your joys and I shared in all of your secret plans and dreams. You slept with me in the barn when I went into colic and stroked my neck and mane when I needed to feel loved.  I believed that life could not be any more perfect.

We went for long walks and you would laugh as we ran through the fields together.  You made my mouth drool for the watermelon that you would slurp in front of me and then you would share, kissing the softness of my nose.  You did not care if I blew a “snot-rocket” in your hair because you loved my smell.

I would watch you pull out of the drive way in your truck to go to work and I would run along side the road in my pen to see if I could out run you.  I waited until the end of the day for you to come home and be with me.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time away from me searching for a human mate.  I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions and romped with glee at your homecomings. ..and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a “horse person”... still I welcomed her into our lives, tried to show her affection and allowed her to sit on my back even when she did not know how to give me cues.  I tried so hard to understand what she asked of me as she sat in the saddle and I tried to please her.  I was happy because you were happy. 

Then the human babies came along and I shared in your excitement.  You would come out to the barn and put the babies on my back.  I was fascinated by their pinkness, and how they smelled and I wanted to make them happy, too. I loved to hear them giggle as I gently took a step forward as they ran their fingers in my mane while holding on. I wanted to be their friend, only she worried that I might hurt them. After awhile, I was banished to the far pasture. Oh, how I wanted to love your little people, but I became a “prisoner of love.”

As the children began to grow, they would spend more time with me and I became their friend.  They would cling to my mane as we would ride together in the fields.  They poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears and gave me kisses on my nose.  I loved everything about them. Their touch was comforting because yours was so infrequent and I would defend them with my life, if need be.

They would sneak out to the barn and I would listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we would wait for the sound of your truck in the driveway.  There had been a time when others would ask you if you had a horse and you would produce a photo of me from your wallet and you would tell them stories about me...the adventures that we had together. These passed few years now, when asked,  you would answer “yes” and would change the subject.  I had gone from being ‘your horse, your friend’ to ‘just a horse’ and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now, you have a career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment. You can’t take a horse to the city.  You’ve made the right decision for your family, but there was a time that I was your family and part of your new family.

I was excited about the trailer ride until we arrived at the sale yard.  It smelled of other horses, of fear and hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said, “I know that you will get a good price for her, she’s in good condition and a beautiful horse.”  They shrugged and gave you a strange look.  They understood the realities facing an middle aged horse, even one with “papers.”  You had to pry your son’s fingers loose from my mane as he screamed, “No, daddy! Please don’t let them take my horse.” And I worried for him and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life.

You gave me a good-bye rub on the neck, avoided my eyes and politely refused to take my halter and lead rope with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have One, too.

After you left, a man with a whip began to whip me for no reason. I did not know what he was asking me to do or even why he was being so cruel. When he stopped, I heard the man tell another that you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and you made no attempt to find me another good home.  They shook their heads and said, “How could you?”

The auction wasn’t for another few days.  The people here were cruel and mean. They fed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago.  Hours before the auction began, people would walk by my stall where many of us were warehoused.  At first, whenever anyone passed by, I rushed to the front, hoping that it was you, that you had changed your mind, that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped that it would be at least someone who cared, any one who might save me and love me.  When I realized that I could not compete with the frolicking, happy fillies and colts, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard the sound of the auctioneer. I heard the crack of the whip as the other horses were being herded in to the arena where they were to be bid on by the slaughter man.  I felt the sting of the whip across my back and I ran along the aisle to where the other horses were.  The auctioneers’ voice was deafening in the loud speaker and the smell of fear emanated from every pore of my being.  I was sold for $75.00.  A man said that I was fat and healthy and he could fetch forty cents on the pound for me and he was angry that somebody else had won the bid.

I heard her boots coming toward me at the end of the day and I willingly allowed her to lead me to a small horse trailer where she gave me some grain and rubbed my neck. The trailer was blissfully quiet as the woman drove to a barn many miles away where I saw green pastures and happy horses.  She asked me to step out of the trailer where she walked by my side to a stall in a large barn and she rubbed my ears.  I heard her tell me that she could not bare to think that I would go to slaughter where unthinkable things happen to my equine friends, but that she could not afford to keep me, either.  She told me not to worry.

I saw the man coming toward me with a needle in his hand.  I was afraid but there was also a sense of relief.  The prisoner of love had run out of days.  I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her and I know that, the same way that I knew your every mood.

She quietly stroked my muzzled, kissed my nose and rubbed under my mane and I saw a tear run down her cheek. I placed the softness of my nose on her neck in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. The Vet expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein.

As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I felt my legs begin to give out from underneath me.  I lay down sleepily and looked into her eyes and nickered, “How could you?”

Perhaps because she understood my “horse speak”, she said, “I’m so sorry.”  She hugged me, and hurriedly explained again that she just couldn’t bare the thought of me going to slaughter and that she wanted me to go to a better place, where I wouldn’t be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself. A place of happiness and light so very different from this earthly place. She told me about the green pastures and never ending love.  That before the auction, the new wife of my master had given her life over to Jesus and all she had thought about was my fate. With my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with one last nicker that my “How could you?” wasn’t directed at her. It was you, my beloved master and friend, I was thinking of.  I will think of you and wait for you forever.

Author Unknown