The Seven-Year-Old Child with the Thousand-Year-Old Soul

Rescuing abused horses is a mighty task. Each circumstance brings its’ own set of challenges. In sixteen years of helping the neglected, this particular event still sits at the forefront of my heart and mind, guiding me through many difficult days. I met her on Monday. I stood quietly and stared in complete disbelief. The pain and suffering inflicted upon this lovely mare are nearly indescribable. My heart sank. My girlfriend cried all night, and I simply could not ignore this mare. Daisy needed help, and I was determined to be the one. I joined forces with my friends Kendra and Frances. We scrambled to put together a decent bribe. The owner casually mentioned that he was keeping her alive just for the baby. Our determination steadied. We made a reasonable offer and paid half up front. It’s difficult doing business with the devil.

The next visit Frances shared with this mare that she was going to be leaving soon. Frances slipped her pain medication and explained that it would be morning before she could pick her up. She stood brushing the dead hair off her emaciated body. The owner showed up with another person and this mare hobbled in agony to the far end of the shelter. She retreated to the furthest corner of her stall, and our hearts broke all over again. Frances made a silent promise to her. I will come to get you.

Morning found that horse standing alert at the stall door. The gates from hell were about to be opened. She was about to be set free. She wore shoes, probably had been on her hooves longer than four or five years. Horseshoes need to be replaced every eight weeks. Her hooves appeared six or seven inches too long, and her front legs trembled to hold her weight as she moved forward. Sweating and working as hard as she could, that mare walked to the trailer and stepped up. She and Frances never looked back. The relief and gratitude this mare displayed will touch your heart. How do you stay so sweet when you are subjected to such abuse? Her front teeth are chipped and broken off. I guesstimate her overall score for health must be about a two on a scale of one to ten. Her body wheezes when she sighs, and a cough may suggest worm infestation. I was told it was suspected she was a victim of “Horse Tripping.” This is an event for spectators held at Mexican Rodeos where a horse is made to trip on a piece of stretched wire while running at a full gallop. The result is usually a broken neck or some other heinous injury. This blatant horse abuse is widely accepted at many American rodeos as well. Our work had just begun. She was now comfortable in her own stall. Eight inches of fresh deep shavings will keep any more bedsores at bay. Mike, a wonderful farrier came out on a moment’s notice and took off the shoes. He trimmed up what easily came off. Under the glaring lights of portable electricity, she stood quietly leaning into Cassidy, another wonderful farrier, while the years of abuse were clipped away. Tears on every face were explanation enough that the right decision had been made. We massaged her sore limbs, administered pain relief, and made sure she had continuous fresh hay and water.

Dr. Terry arrived in the morning to assess the situation. My dear friend Kendra showed up with a little waif of a child, about seven years old. Kendra told me this child speaks to angels. She also speaks to animals. At the ripe old age of seven, she had already earned the nickname “Little Angel of Death’. The doctor of Veterinary Medicine met the child communicator. Two worlds stood side by side. Graciously they each made their assessments.

Dr. Terry said this poor mare was in a lot of discomfort. Lungs have fluid, temperature is high, tendons are strained, and hooves were horrendous. Her age was estimated at twenty-five plus years. Final diagnosis was pneumonia, a body score of 1.5. Euthanasia was suggested. Then the little girl entered the stall and sat closely. She tucked her skirt under her legs and leaned forward, eyes closed. Her tiny hands touched Daisy’s neck and then slowly stroked her cheek. She whispered, “I understand”. After but a moment she glanced up at the adults, “She is worried about her unborn foal. She lives only to see her birth”. Dr. Terry explained that she could not successfully bring a baby into the world in her condition. Nodding, the little voice replied, “Yes, I will tell her.”

Complete disbelief engulfed me as this small collection of adults stood quietly taking in the conversation between this child and Daisy. Silent glances were exchanged. Who told her she might be pregnant? Where did this little body get such an old soul? Am I the only one standing in complete disbelief? My questioning thoughts were interrupted. “She is ready to go,” affirmed the little girl as she stood up. Daisy heaved her body forward and backward and up she stood. The little girl reached up and opened the stall door. They made a quiet exit. Her tiny hand never left the mare's shoulder. Towering above her tiny frame, the mare gently leaned her head in close and began to walk slowly keeping pace with her little guide. Side by side up to the grassy area they walked no lead line, no halter, no means of controlling this 1000lb animal.

We all stood frozen watching this little angel at work. Guiding a weary soul to the other side is no small task. She made it look effortless, and with all the graciousness one would imagine for an angel to display, she helped that mare lay down. Settled in and lying comfortably in tall grass the little girl announced, “She is ready now. She understands she will have new feet, a better body and no more pain. She is looking forward to seeing her baby”.

Daisy crossed over quietly and peacefully. The little girl smiled and said with such love. “There, she is much better now. God Bless you Daisy, God Bless your little one”. Kendra, with her physic abilities that make me believe she is from an alternate dimension anyway, began talking and brought everyone back from our frozen observations. Again the breeze could be felt upon my cheek, and I heard the sounds of the raptors fussing in the trees. Leaves rustled once again. For me, it was a feeling as though the earth was breathing again, releasing a big exhale as yet another soul had crossed. What just transpired here? My thoughts were quieted by the overwhelming comfort of knowing. It sent me into the hallowed quiet space of church. It brings my mother's face to light. She is there, young, smiling, caring for, and watching over us. I kneel with hands folded in prayer. I feel a light peering through colorful stained glass. The stream of light impairs my vision, yet I feel as I am… seeing so clearly. I see my father as a young parent. My little brother is listening as it is explained to him that this is really where the golf course begins. With talent beyond his age, he soaks in the opportunity to stand on the edge of the earth and play, and to stand on the silky grass next to greatness. The coastal salt air permeates their surroundings. The ocean roars as the wind swirls up froth from the tide. The view is extravagant. It is a moment inside a bigger moment called life.

I hear the waves thrash up onto the sand. I feel the air in my nose and tears sitting on my face. I am transported to many places instantly and all the places at once. It is profound to feel connected to all. We really are all one. I breathe, you fly, and one will snort and trot. We stand reaching upward to the heavens; we hope for the life where form does not exist, where healing is complete, and pain is non-existent. We are all one, in love and peace.

The lesson I observed from this little girl resonated deeply within my heart. She touched so many lives that morning, simply by sharing her love, her gift. I am profoundly grateful to her, and for the little miracles I experience at this rescue.