THE LITTLE BAY MARE

Tim pulled the truck into the short driveway and stopped at the house. The house was well maintained with a freshly mown lawn and immaculate flowerbeds along the house. There was a pretty white board fence that stretched across the lawn to the right of the driveway. I stepped out of the truck and walked to the fence. There was a gray, fourteen-hand pony in the small pasture. She was so grossly overweight that she had trouble walking. I extended my hand to her as she approached the fence. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed movement in the shadows of the trees in a back corner of the pasture. Into the sunlight stepped a bay horse about fourteen hands tall as well. She was so thin and pathetic looking; I gasped at the sight of her. The hollows over her eyes sunk in to reveal the skeletal structure of her face. The eyes themselves were sad, with a distant, hopeless expression. She was sway-backed and her chest was so small and shrunken, it forced her knees together. Her feet were curling upward and she walked very carefully. Her prominent withers supported a shrunken ewe-neck that did not look as though it could support her head. Her coat was long and wavy even though it was April and the horses that had remained in camp were shedding out. Even the long coat could not conceal the protruding ribs and hipbones. She had no rump to speak of, just bones covered by a thin layer of skin.

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and the anger burning in my stomach. As Tim and the owner approached, I turned to look into the face of the human being that was responsible for such misery. This small older man pointed to the little bay, “ that’s the one, that bay over there.” I looked at him and slowly realized that this man had no idea that this horse was close to death.

“How much have you been feeding them?” Tim asked.

“ I give them eight quarts of grain a day, plus hay,” the owner answered.

“Don’t you see that the gray is getting all the food?” Tim asked.

“ Yeah, She’s the bossy one,” the owner said. As Tim and the owner continued their conversation, I climbed through the fence. The little bay mare pricked her ears and timidly approached me, all the while keeping an eye on the gray for any threat of attack. I stroked her neck as she gently sniffed me over with her muzzle. Her coat fell out in clumps as I petted her. The skin beneath was dry and scaly and dandruff particles came out with the hair. Her bone structure was solid and her conformation was good. This horse couldn’t have been like this forever; she must have been well cared for in her earlier years. She had a lot of graying around her muzzle and eyes and I realized that this horse was advanced in years. How sad this creature was spending her remaining years in this condition. I saw that she had a dropped hip as well. At the time I didn’t know exactly what it was, but I knew it was a condition that may have led her down this road. I wondered if whoever had owned her previously would be horrified at her condition now.

“ C’mon Lyn,” Tim called. I gave her one last pat and saw all the filthy crud on my hands from her. None of that mattered now, though, she’d be coming to camp and I’d make sure she got the best of everything.

“ When are we coming back for her?” I asked Tim, once we were in the truck.

“ We’re not,” Tim answered flatly. “ I can’t spend good money on an old horse in such bad condition. She’ll probably die, anyway.” I looked at him in total disbelief. Hadn’t he seen what I had?

“ You can’t just leave her there!” I pleaded. “ Did you see how sweet she is? She’d make a great camp horse.”

“ The man wants twenty-five dollars for her, I told him he couldn’t pay me to take her.”

“ Well, we have to call the S. P. C. A. at least,” I told him.

“ It’s none of our business, don’t get involved,” Tim told me in no uncertain terms.

“ Look, I know you don’t understand, but I have a Business to run. I can’t take everyone else’s problem. Life is cruel. “ Tim told me.