Timmy’s Best Friend

TimmyinfrontoftheRedBarn

“Of course, I’ll help your little sister, Lucas,” said Renata.

“Thank you, Renata. I knew I could count on you. Kobi will be so happy! She’s already in love with this horse.  I know you’re not running a boarding facility, but I’ll pay any monthly fees you require.”

“Lucas, you’ve helped me on so many occasions, I owe you,” said a smiling Renata face raised, looking into his hazel eyes. “I’ll expect some work out of her though,” Renata continued, still smiling.

“Of course,” said Lucas looking down at her and smiling too.

Renata reached out and took Lucas’s right hand in hers.  There was a strong bond between the athletic, bronze-skinned deputy and the lovely dark-haired lady from Brazil. Renata broke the moment by stepping back and asked, “So when can I expect my new border?”

Lucas cleared his throat and said, “I’ll call Strider and let him know you agreed, and they can go pick up the horse. They purchased him at the auction last night to save him from the “killer buyers.”

“What breed is the horse?” asked Renata.

“He’s a thoroughbred. He apparently has a minor injury and was therefore deemed no longer useful by your neighbor, Kirk Robertson,” answered Lucas.

Renata frowned and said, “Horses are a lifelong responsibility. Just because they can’t be ridden anymore is no excuse to betray and abandon them.” Renata’s fists tightened as she said it.

“I knew you felt that way Renata. You keep old Ambush around and even Timmy, who’s never been ridden. It’s one of the many things I admire about you,” he said smiling.

 

It was late evening when the truck and trailer pulled into Kuhaylah Arabians. School was out for the day, so Gina was at the ranch and standing next to Renata as they watched the truck pull the trailer up the long drive.

“Let’s meet them at the small barn,” said Renata as she started walking toward the small red barn on the corner of the property.  There were no horses in it at the moment. They had just been using it to store hay.

Renata and Gina arrived at the front of the barn just as the truck was reaching the bend in the driveway right in front of it.  Renata signaled to Strider to stop the truck. Strider had been driving the rig at a snail’s pace, but it was very dry and there was a slight breeze on this cool, crisp, autumn evening, so a little cloud of white dust wafted over them. Strider stepped out of the truck and was immediately joined by a slim, brown-skinned girl with black hair in braids as she slid out right behind him on the driver’s side, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey Gina, hey Renata,” said Strider as the new girl looked on. “This is Kobi Remington, Lucas Remington’s younger sister.”

“Nice to meet you, Kobi,” said Renata smiling.

Timmy, the ever-curious golden pony, came trotting up from the big pasture to check out the new arrival.

“Nice to meet you too,” answered Kobi. “And thank you so much for doing this. I really love this horse!”

“I’m always willing to help a fellow horse lover! We are kindred spirits.”

“Hi Kobi,” said Gina. “I haven’t seen you at Dale City High. Do you go there?”

“You haven’t seen her because she’s in eighth grade,” laughed Strider.

Kobi smiled at Gina, but then turned toward Timmy, “What a cute pony.”

“That’s Timmy, he’s the head of the welcoming committee at Kuhaylah Arabians,” laughed Renata.

As if on cue, Timmy walked straight up to Kobi and nuzzled her neck as she giggled.

“He likes you,” said Renata, “and he seems to like your charge too. Let’s get him out of the trailer.”

The trailer was a small, white, two-horse affair. The horse was on the left, so Kobi opened the right rear door after lowering the ramp and stepped inside.  “It’s okay Charlie Brown, you’re safe now,” she said to the horse. He softly nickered to her as if he understood.

Strider opened the left rear door after she reached the head of the horse.

It was obvious Kobi had a bond with the horse because she just tugged back on the lead rope a little while lightly tapping on his chest and he began to slowly back out as she talked softly to him.

He was a sight to see as he stepped out of the trailer into the evening sunlight. He was a well built, bay thoroughbred with a blaze running down his entire face. Kobi turned him around to face the group and said, “His name is Charlie Brown.”

“Charlie Brown? What a weird name for a horse,” said Gina.

“His sire is Big Brown, the 2008 Kentucky Derby winner,” said Kobi.

“But unfortunately for him, he didn’t take after his sire. Too slow,” said Strider.

Timmy walked up to Charlie Brown and they touched noses. They immediately bonded, no squealing or pawing at each other.

“Looks like Timmy found himself a best friend. Let’s take him into the small barn and check him over,” said Renata.

Kobi began to lead Charlie Brown toward the barn and he limped a little on his front right leg.

“Stop a moment, Kobi, so I can check out his leg,” said Renata.

“He has a suspensory ligament injury,” said Strider.

Renata walked up to the horse, bent down and placed her hand on his leg. “His leg does feel warm and there is a little swelling. It’s a common injury in horse racing, but it seems minor. Just a little stall rest, anti-inflammatories, and support bandages and he should be fine. Why was he sentenced to certain death?” asked Renata.

“Like I said, too slow. Wisdom Racing Stables has no room for a slow racehorse,” said Strider.

Renata’s body tensed with anger as she straightened back up. “Ridiculous! This horse would make an excellent dressage prospect. He’s young and healthy. Besides, animal ownership is a lifelong commitment!”

“We knew you would feel that way,” said Strider with a smile.

“What’s dressage?” asked Kobi.

“It’s an elegant style of riding that this beauty would be well suited for. I used to compete on horses like this when I lived in Paris,” said Renata.

“Paris, Texas?” asked Kobi.

Renata laughed, “Paris, France.”

“Paris, France?! Wow! Could you teach me dressage?” asked Kobi.

“I can,” said Renata, smiling and continued, “Let’s take Charlie Brown into the barn and get him settled for the evening.”

Gina opened the white, metal gate to let Charlie and his entourage through to the small paddock area in front of the little, red barn. Timmy tried to bring up the rear, but Gina gently pushed him back and closed the gate. “Sorry buddy. You can see your new friend later,” she said as she rubbed his nose.

Timmy stood guard at the gate as they all went inside the barn to help their new resident settle into his forever home.

Timmy and Charlie Playing Video

Pictures of Timmy and Charlie Brown:

 

 

 

Mary-My Sponsor Horse

MARY (1)

I’ve been following Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue on Facebook for some time and when they posted that they needed a sponsor for the beautiful, Mary, I couldn’t resist.  She’s a Tennessee Walker and here is her bio:

MaryBIO

Animal rescue is important to me and I’d like to dedicate my life to it through my writing.  As I’ve mentioned on my home page I have several rescues of my own. I wish I could save all of them!

Becky’s Hope has saved countless lives and continues to do so.  If you sponsor a horse (which is only 50 dollars a month), you get this cool certificate (and the above bio and thank you card):

CERTMARY (1)

They are a wonderful organization!

Check them out on Facebook: Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue, Inc.

or their website: Becky’s Hope Horse Rescue

Book Review-Joey by Jennifer Bleakley

Joey Book Cover

Joey is the biography of a horse, but not a famous horse like Man O’ War or Seabiscuit, just a regular horse that was saved from bad circumstances and in return rescued his rescuers.  Everyone who ever meets Joey can’t help but fall in love.  Joey had been a show horse early on, but after an injury ended his show career he was passed from owner to owner and eventually ended up in a neglectful situation, which often happens to horses who are considered no longer “useful”.  At some point during this time he went completely blind, which was probably due to malnutrition.

Along comes Kim Tschirret who has a dream to unite troubled horses with troubled kids and Hope Reins is born. Joey along with another Appaloosa, named Speckles, arrive together at the fledgling therapy horse ranch to be among the first group of horses to help troubled kids.  The volunteers at the ranch, along with Kim, learn as they go and have to face special challenges brought on by a blind horse like Joey.  The book is inspiring because they learn and adapt to Joey’s needs as well as the needs of the children entrusted to their care.

There is a strong Christian theme to this book, which I thought might be off-putting for me because I am not particularly religious; although I do believe in a higher power.  But, it’s actually heartwarming following the main players and how each of them addresses their individual faiths and hope in God and the miracle that is Hope Reins.

Warning; tears will be shed in the reading of this book.  Sometimes the tears will be because of sadness, but mostly because the book is heartwarming.  Reading this book strengthened my belief in the something more that all of us can have faith in and the ability of some people to truly access the goodness with themselves.  I highly recommend this book for horse lovers and anyone who wants further evidence that there is true kindness to be found amongst the humans.

This book was a gift from my beloved Franch horses:

Joey Inside Book Cover

Pretty sure my dear friend, Julz, helped them pick it out! 😉

The Premarin Mare

EndPMU

PMU is used to produce estrogen and hormone-replacement drugs such as Premarin, PremPro and PremPhase and DUAVEE, a “PremPro-Lite” which contains Premarin. PMU drugs are made by keeping mares constantly pregnant and collecting their estrogen-rich urine.“-equineadvocates.org

Several years ago when I volunteered at Hope for Horses, a horse rescue which was formerly located in Blue Ridge, Texas, I learned about the details of the PMU industry.  As a pharmacist, I already knew that the Premarin stood for “Pregnant mares’ urine”, but I had no idea as to the extent of the cruelty in the industry.  I was inspired by what I learned to write the following short story from a Premarin mare’s point of view.  The story is sad, but there is hope for the mare, because Hope for Horses and many other rescues throughout the U.S. and Canada have saved thousands of these mares and their foals and continue to do so.  Please consider the multitude of alternatives for hormone replacement therapy. Estrace, for example, is one of the many alternatives available and is plant based and it has a very inexpensive generic, estradiol.

Author note: I took some poetic license with this story because I have never actually visited a PMU farm.

The Premarin Mare

            The man was leading me through the large, cold building.  I could see the heads of the other mares above their stalls.  But worst of all I could hear their mournful cries.  I had lived among other horses before, but I had never encountered such an intense smell of manure and urine before in my life.  There were too many horses in this building.

I nickered softly to the man who led me through this hellish nightmare.  I hoped that he would have sympathy for me and take me away from this place.  He refused to turn and look at me.  I stretched out my head and nuzzled his neck.  He turned and struck me so viciously with his fist that I was stunned.  I had never been treated roughly by a human before.

​            It seemed ages ago that two other men had come to my home and had taken me away.  I can still remember the sound of my little girl sobbing and calling my name after I was loaded into the trailer.  Up until that moment I hadn’t been worried because I thought I might just be going to see the man who would look in my mouth.  I could see my little girl through the panels on the side of the trailer.  She was running toward me, her long blonde hair streaming out behind her.  She was screaming my name between her wrenching sobs.  I answered her screams.  I whinnied frantically.

​           The last thing I saw as the trailer began to drive away was the big man who lived in the house running toward my girl.  He swept up my sweet little girl into his arms and held her tight.  She was struggling.  She had pounded her fists into his chest as she screamed my name.

​            Now, the man was leading me into one of the tiny stalls.  I stopped and refused to move forward.  He reached out and pinched my nostrils together with his huge hand.  The pain was excruciating, especially since he had just punched me there, but I still stood my ground.  He called to someone else.  Another man walked up behind me and pressed something against my flanks.  Incredible pain surged through my body and I bolted forward.

​            I was immediately chained to the stall.  I tried to rear and buck, but the chains were too strong.  Once my energy was exhausted the men hooked tubes to my lower body.  The tubes were uncomfortable and rubbed between my inner rear legs, but there was nothing I could do.

​I awoke to the sound of the other mares whining horribly and struggling against their chains.  It may have been morning, but I couldn’t tell.  My stall was too far into the depths of this large dismal building for me to see outdoors.  My legs ached from standing all night on the concrete.

​            Then I realized why the other mares were struggling so hard.  Men were bringing around buckets of water.  I had never been so thirsty in all my life and so I began to struggle too.  The mares on either side of me tried to bite me as the man came closer.  I snapped back at them.  We had become like vicious animals.  No longer did there exist a herd mentality among these mares.  We were struggling violently to take care of our own needs.

​            The man stopped in front of my stall with the water bucket and I quickly sank my muzzle into it.  But before I had taken three gulps, he ripped the bucket away from me and continued to the next mare.  I whined after him pitiably.  I was so thirsty.  Surely more water would come around soon.  As the men with the water buckets passed through the rows and rows of mares, I could hear them whining and struggling to get to the water.

​            Weeks or maybe months went by and nothing improved.  My body ached.  I would often dream of my little girl.  She would be riding me across the pasture on a beautiful sunny day.  She was as light as a feather and I cantered happily about the pasture listening to the sound of her laughter drifting above my head.

​            Maybe someday I will see her again and I will answer her laughter with a carefree whinny.

PMUAlternative