Rescue is rough. Even though we are predominantly a Sanctuary, the majority of horses/mules we take in are “rescues”. And even after years of rehabilitation, healing and care, I still remember how each horse came to us – what they looked like, if they were in pain, if they were frightened. I always see how far they have come; but also know just what they have come from. Some days are harder than others. I had 2 messages today about horses needing homes (some weeks I get a couple of messages, some weeks over a dozen). One had been “rescued” by the owner and “isn’t working out”. Another was an elderly blind horse needing to be retired.
Each description of a horse in need can remind me of a beloved in Sanctuary… another Bodhi, another Murray, another Comet. Being at capacity here (for our funds, bandwidth and stated limit for our license) means we cannot add more. And that is rough. None here are adoptable right now. Room is sometimes made by the passing of a beloved elder and that hurts.
I have one horse on a waiting list. I would love to help this horse (who fits our criteria), but I do not want to be able to because of what that means.
I’m also tired of wasting my time. Five hours of waiting for a farrier who did not show up… working all morning making videos that did not pan out… things that add up when I have a hundred other things screaming for my attention (with deadlines). So, I do my chores and hope for a better day tomorrow.
Then, feeling defeated, I call to Teaberry at the end of the arena. He gallops to me at full speed, slows inside his shelter, ignores the hay put in his feeder and places his head gently against my chest. I am filled with his kindness, his awareness. He just stands there until I break the bond to move the hose filling his water tub. He makes me cry – but in a good way. He stopped my dwelling on what I can’t do or what I haven’t done yet. He makes me realize what I have done.
He rescued me tonight.
Stablewomen 