At 5:25 AM my alarm sounded like it does every morning. I grabbed my phone and sat up in bed. Scrolling through Facebook like a true millennial, just trying to wake up, my tired eyes glanced over posts and comments from the night before. As I scrolled I came across a horse sale ad, just like the dozens of others that popped up on my news feed every day.
Somehow, this ad was different. In loud capital letters it read “SET TO BE EUTHANIZED FEBRUARY 22ND.” My heart pained as I wondered what was wrong with the pretty bay horse in the photos. Another pasture ornament, I figured. A horse that would not ever have a happy, healthy life. And even though my heart hurt thinking about it, I knew that for some horses euthanasia was the best, most humane option.
But my curiosity peaked when my eyes settled on the location of the ad – Georgetown, KY. That meant just minutes down the road stood a dark bay horse with the cutest blaze and a sturdy, almost warmblood-like build that would be put down in three days. So, I clicked the link, fully expecting to read about a horse with some inoperable injury who would live out her days in pain. I braced myself to read one last plea for someone to take her on as a pasture buddy, regardless of her quality of life.
Instead, what I read hurt even more. This horse had been a broodmare for several years and could no longer be useful as such without expensive surgery. She had several foals over the years, but had lacerated her cervix in the process of foaling unattended. The injury wasn’t fatal, she wasn’t in pain, and she was happy and healthy in every other aspect. But there she was, 15 minutes away and set to be put down in three short days, a horse with her whole life ahead of her and no limitations. She had been let down by the very people that she had served for so many years.
But, with the help of some amazing individuals in the industry, she was given another chance. They were given three days to find her a new home. So her ad was shared far and wide, in hopes that someone would be willing to give her a shot. Of course, that bleeding heart happened to be mine.
I rolled over and nudged my groggy, half-asleep husband.
“Babe..” I whispered, “I’m getting another horse.”
Still mostly unconscious, he nodded his head and grunted in agreement. “Okay, whatever.”
At this point it was clear he had no idea what was going on or what he had agreed to, but then again neither did I. And thus is the life of a horse husband. Asleep or not, he knew resistance was futile and no longer even tried to talk me out of my ridiculous plans to save all the ponies.
And save the pony I did.
Doneraile Lass, a royally bred, beautifully built, 11 year old broodmare got her second chance. The one she shouldn’t have needed in the first place. Around the barn we call her Tully, which means peaceful, because she truly is. She has no idea where her life was heading, just three short days from when I stumbled across her ad. She holds no grudges for the way she was treated, for the decisions that were made for her, for the way she was let go. Tully knows nothing but appreciation for the humans who scratch her and feed her cookies.
So now, with her feet trimmed, her mane pulled, and her rain rot being treated, she is heading in a different direction. Her new adventure as a sport horse awaits, and never again will she find herself running out of time, with a desperate plea for someone to take a chance and save her life.