Friday, March 21, 2008

My horse rescue story: Part 2

My last post was about how I first met and named my horse, Panama. This post is about how we rescued him from the backyard breeder and lowlife buyer.

After the vet took Panama back to his place, he was on my mind quite a bit. I even had a vision that night, as I was drifting off to sleep, of his mother (who I'd sat with until they euthanized her) running through a field.

Before my husband, Michael, and I left to return home, we visited Panama at the country vet's place.

I remember standing right next to him, and how little he was: The lowest point on his back was only hip-high to me. (Now full grown, he is only about 14 hands tall, and so is a fairly small horse.) I also remember how skinny and malnurished he was (you could stand back and count his ribs, they protruded so much) and how tense and frightened he was about me standing so close to him.

A little over a week later, my husband asked me one evening to check my phone. He had sent me a picture of Panama grazing.

"He's yours," Michael said, smiling.

Of course, I was shocked and delighted, but once I stopped screaming and jumping and thanking him, I found out what had happened: Evidently no one would pay the colt's (or his mother's) vet bill, so Michael called the vet and arranged to pay it, in exchange for Panama.

And that's how I first got Panama. He lived on my brother-in-law's pasture until September of 2007, when we finally brought him to the Denver area and had him stabled nearby.

This blog is not only the story of a very lucky rescue horse, but also about the day-to-day life of owning a horse.



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