Timmy Goes Missing-A Timmy Tale

            Gina bolted upright in the bed. When she realized where she was, she laid her head back down on the comfy pillow. No sounds of her younger, twin brothers arguing over what to watch on TV.  It was Sunday, and the smell of apple chicken sausage tickled her nose. A real breakfast! No scrounging around trying to find remnants of cereal after those two brats had free rein over the kitchen. I wish I could just live forever at Kuhaylah Arabians! Gina rolled off the bed onto the floor. She stretched before slipping on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and headed into the kitchen.

            “Good morning, Antonia,” said Gina as she retrieved a couple of plates from the cabinet and carried them to the table.

            “Good morning,” said Antonia.

The morning news was playing in the background on the small television on the kitchen counter as Gina finished setting the table and Antonia finished cooking.  Gina helped Antonia make the plates with eggs and sausage and Antonia set another plate on the table with toasted English muffins that were already dripping with butter.  Antonia turned to shut off the TV because she preferred talking during meals, when a breaking news story announced a missing boy.

            The local news reporter, Nancy Hill, appeared on the screen.  All blonde hair and blue eyes…a walking cliché.

            “A boy has gone missing,” she announced maintaining her serious reporter face as she continued.  “I’m here at Connie’s Creatures, a local petting zoo, where the search is underway for a five-year-old boy that disappeared from his church group who were here to visit the sweet farm animals as part of the Mother’s Day Out program that the church runs for single mothers.  The boy’s mother has just arrived,” said Nancy with a gleam in her eye.

            Seconds later, Nancy Hill, shoved a microphone in the face of the distraught young mother. 

            Antonia turned off the television. “That woman has no shame,”

            “You know her?” asked Gina.

            “She used to cover horse shows and the like.  She always loved it when someone was injured.  The more serious, the better.” Antonia continued, “That animal farm is near here.  We need to help with the search after we feed the horses.”

            Antonia walked over to a side counter and picked up her cell.  “Go ahead and eat. I’m going to call Lucas.”

            “Lucas Remington, the sheriff’s deputy you’re friends with?” asked Gina.

            Antonia nodded as she said, “Hello Lucas.  Yes, I heard.  We’re going to help with the search after we feed the horses.  Gina’s with me.  Okay, I’ll call you as soon as we’re done.  Let me know if you need horses.” Antonia clicked off the call and slid the phone in her pocket.

            Gina finished her last forkful of eggs and took her plate to the sink.

“We’ll clean up later.  Pull on your boots and let’s go.” Antonia grabbed a chicken sausage with one hand and ate it as she opened the back door with the other and strode toward the main barn which housed the mares.  Gina slipped her feet into her steel-toed cowboy boots, her barn boots as she called them and came flying out the door behind Antonia.  Even in a hurry, she looked graceful in Gina’s eyes as she scrambled to keep up.

            Several scoops of feed later, the mare’s barn was done, and they headed to the smaller stallion barn.  Spirit, the younger resident stallion, Flame, and the two geldings, Ambush and Blaze, whinnied in unison as Antonia and Gina arrived. 

Antonia walked straight to Spirit and held the beautiful face the black stallion offered over the stall door in her hands, placing her forehead to his. He became a kitten in her hands. It always looked to Gina as if they were communing telepathically. She couldn’t help feeling jealous every time they did it. 

Flame nickered softly to her. “I know.  You want your feed,” Gina whispered.  She walked to the feed bin, lifted the lid with one hand and grabbed a scoopful with the other.  She closed the lid after retrieving the scoop and then crossed the narrow barn aisle and entered Flame’s stall.  He immediately attacked the grain after she poured it in the corner bucket.  The sun peeked through the small windows up high in the stalls and Flame’s bright red coat glistened with spots of gold and copper.  Gina couldn’t help wishing he was hers and she could one day share the same bond with him that Antonia shared with Spirit.  Flame lifted his head, turned toward Gina and nuzzled her chest with his soft nose, then returned his attention to the bucket.  

            “He’s bonding with you,” Antonia said, as if she were reading Gina’s mind.

            “What do you mean? He just turned for a second.”

            “When a horse stops eating feed, one of their favorite things, to greet someone, that means they care about that person,” said Antonia.

            Gina took one more look at Flame before stepping out of the stall and allowed herself to imagine for a moment that he was truly hers.

            “Ok, let’s go feed the retirees.  They’re already gathered up front,” said Antonia, breaking Gina from her thoughts.

            Gina loved how Antonia called the southwest pasture horses, retirees.  They earned their retirement she always said.  The feed buckets for the pasture horses hung on the fence just west of the stallion barn, so they didn’t have far to walk.  Antonia had poured feed into a wheelbarrow that she rolled over now as they walked toward the fence.  They both grabbed a scoop of feed and emptied them into a couple of buckets before wasting no time to scoop up some more feed.  This was a process that had to be done quickly to minimize the breakout of fights.  A few minutes later, all the horses were happily munching away in their individual buckets, but then Gina noticed one of the buckets had no one attending to it.

            “Oh my gosh, Antonia! Where is Timmy?!” Gina exclaimed.

            “I just noticed that too,” said Antonia.  “I’ll saddle up Spirit, you get Freedom from the other barn, and we’ll ride out to find him.”

            “Something really bad must have happened! Timmy is always with the herd! Oh Antonia…” tears streamed down Gina’s face.

            “Gina, we don’t have all the facts yet. When you worry and then something happens, you suffer twice. Go get Freedom, girl.”

            Gina ran to the mares’ barn to get Freedom. Stop crying! Antonia’s right. We’ll find Timmy. The seasoned mare had finished her feed and was happy to see Gina to take her out to the mares’ pasture as per the usual routine.  Gina slipped her halter on her in the stall and as she exited the stall, she turned left in the barn aisle to head to the pasture. 

            “Sorry girl.  We have to find Timmy first.  You’ll get to hang out with the other mares later.” Gina patted Freedom’s neck and then turned her the other way toward the saddling area.

            Gina met up with Antonia outside the gate that led to the southwest pasture.  Antonia on her black stallion, Spirit, and Gina on the dependable chestnut mare.  Freedom was the first offspring of Spirit.  And like all his children, she was beautiful; fiery chestnut coat, flowing tail, blaze, and all. 

            “Ok, let’s check the pond out front first,” said Antonia and they cantered out together toward the pond.  What a sight they would have been to anyone watching.  Two petite women riding magnificent Arabian horses, running with tails held high.  One shimmering black in the morning sun and the other flaming red.

            Timmy was not at the pond. They headed toward the south gate that led to the back riding trails.  It was open this time of year, so they cantered through single file, Antonia leading the way on Spirit.  Kuhaylah Arabians was over two hundred acres in size, so the search was cut out for them.  They rode side by side on the main trail, walking now and watching and listening.

            They both stopped in their tracks.  They heard the faint whinny at the same time.  Gina’s heart leapt into her throat, “Timmy’s alive!” she said out loud because she had feared the worst.  She loved that little golden pony so much.

            Antonia held up her hand, palm facing toward Gina.  She was listening intently.  Nothing.  So, she called out, “Timmy!”  There was another whinny in response to her query and this time stronger.  It came from in front of them, off to the right, deep amongst the trees.  Antonia urged Spirit straight into a gallop from a dead stop.  Gina urged Freedom to follow.  The red mare wasn’t as fast as Spirit, but she willingly followed at a good clip. 

            They slowed to a trot as they left the trail to enter the thicket.  Halfway into the trees, Timmy came trotting up.  He seemed perfectly fine, so Antonia said, “Timmy, you gave us a huge scare.  Come here!”

Timmy looked at Antonia and just as it was with Spirit, it appeared that they were communicating telepathically.  They continued to stare at each other for what seemed to Gina like several minutes, but in reality, lasted only seconds.  Timmy shook his head, blonde mane tossing about his neck, then turned on his heels and trotted deeper into the trees.  Antonia followed without saying a word. Gina followed too.

            Timmy slowed to a walk as they entered a small clearing, Antonia and Gina slowed their mounts too.  Timmy had stopped in front of a lone tree in the clearing.  Antonia and Gina had both been temporarily blinded by the morning sun.  Timmy stepped sideways, head down near the base of the tree and when Gina and Antonia urged their horses a few steps forward into the shade of the great oak tree, they saw what Timmy was looking at.

            The little boy stirred, placed his little hands on each side of Timmy’s soft muzzle and kissed his nose. “Hello horsey,” he said.

….

            “We found the boy,” said Antonia talking on her cell to Lucas. “He’s fine, just a few scratches and tired after his adventure,” she continued. 

            The little boy whose name was Caleb, he had informed them on the ride back to the house, was now munching happily on some leftover apple chicken sausage at the kitchen table.

            “Ok, we’ll see you in a bit,” said Antonia before setting down the cell phone.

            Antonia walked over and sat at the table with Gina and Caleb.  “How are you feeling Caleb?” she asked.

            “Great!” he answered with a mouthful of sausage.  “I love Timmy! He saved me! And I love Freedom too! I never got to ride a horse before! Can I ride Freedom by myself sometime? I mean, it was fun riding with Gina, but I wanna try on my own!” Somehow the boy was smiling, talking, and eating all at the same time.  Gina and Antonia looked at each other and smiled.

            There was a knock at the back door.  Antonia rose from the table and walked the few steps to the door, opening it and in stepped Lucas Remington, tall, dark, and formidable in his deputy’s uniform.  He removed his hat as he entered, revealing the tight, jet-black curls clipped closely to his head.  He was clean cut and smelled of leather and musk.

            “Hi Lucas,” said Gina.

            “Hello, Gina,” he said before turning his attention toward Antonia.  His face softened when he gazed at Antonia, and Gina wished that someone would look at her like that someday.

            “Hello Lucas.” Antonia smiled.  “It’s good to see you as always.”

            Lucas returned her smile and then faced the boy, his expression all business again. “How you feeling, Caleb?”

            “Awesome!” said Caleb, now munching on an English muffin.

            “That’s good to hear,” said Lucas now smiling at the boy.  Lucas reached out his hand and said, “Let’s go see your mom now, she’s been worried sick.”

            “Okay,” Caleb rose from the table and grabbed another English muffin on his way out.

            “I’ll call you later Antonia and let you know how things went,” said Lucas as he turned to leave, holding Caleb’s hand.

            Caleb stopped and twisting toward Antonia asked, “Can I come back and ride Freedom one day?”

            “I would like that Caleb,” said Antonia.  “Lucas, give my number to his mother, will you?” she asked.

            “Yes ma’am,” Lucas, tipped his hat and stepped out the door with Caleb in hand.

            After they drove off in the squad car, Gina asked, “Why don’t you go out with him, Antonia?  He’s obviously in love with you.”

            Antonia had her back to Gina as she continued to look out the kitchen window even though the car was no longer in sight, but then she turned toward Gina and for a split second the sun caught in her eyes and Gina noticed a slight shimmer, as if Antonia were holding back tears. But that wasn’t possible Gina thought, because Antonia was always strong, never emotional.

            “Gina, we need to turn out the mares.” Antonia opened the back door and stepped out. Her voice was strong as always, no hint of sadness. Gina followed her without another word.

    

   

       

         

     

        

     

 

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