On Horses (Ellie)

Ellie is going to be leaving us.

She came to us on a winter day, from a horse sanctuary that had rescued her from a kill pen. She had previously been owned by an Amish man, who had dumped her there when she was no longer of use to him. My sister, who had recently lost her mustang, chose Ellie to take Friso’s place.

Ellie was beautiful, in spite of the fact that her luxuriant black mane had been practically shaved off her. She had huge, liquid black eyes, more beautiful than those of a doe, and a sleek, reddish-brown coat. She had never been outside much before, and she required a blue and white gingham coat when she was out in the pasture in the daytme.

Our family’s other horses (Keldan, Marshall and Charlotte) initially treated her with disdain On her first day with them, they gathered around the haystack and refused to allow her to eat. Ellie was too excited to care, though. Overwhelmed by the pure pleasure of having a pasture to walk around in and no work to do, she would jump up in the air like she had springs on her feet and curve her back in the shape of a C, her gingham coat flapping around her. Then she would lower her head, watching her new pasture mates until they made the mistake of moving away from the haystack As soon as they did, she went to eat her fill while they crowded together on the other side of the field, glowering at her in resentment.

By the next day, Charlotte had fallen passionately in love with her, and they became girlfriends. They spent hours together, walking through the pasture side by side, eating hay and grass, and chasing away Keldan and Marshall whenever they tried to get close to them. Sometimes they even seemed to be talking to each other, standing head to head and sniffing each others faces, turning to stare at us as if we were intruders when we approached. Brief separations caused them to call out to one another incessantly (often in an unprepared ear) until they were finally reunited,

As the years went on, we learned a lot about Ellie. She was a born cutter, and would herd my sister’s pony back to wherever he was supposed to go without ever receiving training. She was also a schemer. When the pony bit her, she would wait hours until she could sneak up behind him and return the favor, with a few extra nips for good measure She had a strong protective instinct, and would ferociously defend my sister whenever another horse got too close. And she had suffered irreparable damage to her joints and hooves due to her previous owner’s use of her .

Some days, Ellie was in so much pain she couldn’t even get up. After multiple episodes of disabling hip pain, her hooves began to separate. Repeated trotting on asphalt had destroyed her body. In spite of multiple medications and procedures, Ellie’s bad days began to outnumber her good ones, and the vet finally told my sister it had become a quality of life issue.

By horse standards, Ellie is young…only 15 years of age. We expected her to live at least another 10-15 years. Now, however, her days appear to be numbered.

I think most people are attracted to horses. When a conversation turns to them, people always remark on their beauty and their nobility. Yet we as a society let bad things happen to horses…like abuse, abandonment. and kill pens They deserve better. No horse should ever be abandoned and left to fend for itself or starve to death. No horse should ever end up in a kill pen, or in a truck on the way to a slaughter facility. And no horse should be forced to trot on asphalt roads until their joints wear out and their hooves are damaged beyond repair.

Ellie certainly deserved better.