Post by jenm on Mar 16, 2007 12:40:50 GMT -5
For those of you who don't always get a chance to read Joe's blogs (www.tbfriends.com), today's note is powerfully poignant. I am going to ask him if he would be okay with us using it in our anti-slaughter campaigns.
This brought tears to my eyes:
Friday, March 16th... The killer who lives in the small trailer has gobs of horses. All colors, all breeds, mostly young and old. The weather is warm, bugs are beginning, and the poop is not picked up. The killer speaks little English, but he sure knows how to yell out prices. Point to a filly and he says three hundred. Point to an old man gelding and he says two hundred. Ask him where these horses come from and he looks confused. Shrugs his shoulders.
We know a horse dealer in Sacramento, and he tells us the killer who lives in the small trailer actually speaks very good English. He will answer an ad on the internet or in newspapers. He comes to your house with children, an all American family. The kids act excited about getting your horse, so you hand over the keys. The dealer in Sacramento says these horses are sent to Texas slaughter once a week. The killer in the small trailer is paid by the pound. And he sends home large sums of money to his real family in Mexico.
Of course the killer in the small trailer is not blazing new trails. Many other horse killers follow the same path. Giving them a horse is like giving them three or four hundred dollars. The killer in the small trailer sometimes makes two thousand dollars a day. He has a brand new bright red truck.
It is not the sadness. It is the madness. In America, where horses should be honored, they stand in piles of their own poop and wait to become dinner in Europe. And they know. You see the faces, just like at the puppy pound. Eyes with hope. And as you pass by those eyes quickly change to despair.
I tell the killer I want the hairy filly who looks like a thoroughbred. My brain wants to scream. This man in not even legal in our country. Yet he is allowed to kill our animals.
Gary Duncan comes with his trailer, and he has an ice cold Coke for me. We talk about basketball scores. The traffic on Interstate 5. And who will go home on American Idol next week?
We cannot talk about all the faces we leave behind.
Nothing ever changes. Internet letters saying hey Joe, slaughter will soon stop. Breeders will quit having babies. The President will sign a new law. Blah blah blah. Hope on the internet allows others to feel relieved. But nothing ever changes. It is the madness. Why on earth would someone have their mare become pregnant? You should see the young horses who are doomed.
It is Friday, and a gelding will arrive from the race track. We could be 80 degrees. The sunrise is spectacular. Another day at the office...
Joe
This brought tears to my eyes:
Friday, March 16th... The killer who lives in the small trailer has gobs of horses. All colors, all breeds, mostly young and old. The weather is warm, bugs are beginning, and the poop is not picked up. The killer speaks little English, but he sure knows how to yell out prices. Point to a filly and he says three hundred. Point to an old man gelding and he says two hundred. Ask him where these horses come from and he looks confused. Shrugs his shoulders.
We know a horse dealer in Sacramento, and he tells us the killer who lives in the small trailer actually speaks very good English. He will answer an ad on the internet or in newspapers. He comes to your house with children, an all American family. The kids act excited about getting your horse, so you hand over the keys. The dealer in Sacramento says these horses are sent to Texas slaughter once a week. The killer in the small trailer is paid by the pound. And he sends home large sums of money to his real family in Mexico.
Of course the killer in the small trailer is not blazing new trails. Many other horse killers follow the same path. Giving them a horse is like giving them three or four hundred dollars. The killer in the small trailer sometimes makes two thousand dollars a day. He has a brand new bright red truck.
It is not the sadness. It is the madness. In America, where horses should be honored, they stand in piles of their own poop and wait to become dinner in Europe. And they know. You see the faces, just like at the puppy pound. Eyes with hope. And as you pass by those eyes quickly change to despair.
I tell the killer I want the hairy filly who looks like a thoroughbred. My brain wants to scream. This man in not even legal in our country. Yet he is allowed to kill our animals.
Gary Duncan comes with his trailer, and he has an ice cold Coke for me. We talk about basketball scores. The traffic on Interstate 5. And who will go home on American Idol next week?
We cannot talk about all the faces we leave behind.
Nothing ever changes. Internet letters saying hey Joe, slaughter will soon stop. Breeders will quit having babies. The President will sign a new law. Blah blah blah. Hope on the internet allows others to feel relieved. But nothing ever changes. It is the madness. Why on earth would someone have their mare become pregnant? You should see the young horses who are doomed.
It is Friday, and a gelding will arrive from the race track. We could be 80 degrees. The sunrise is spectacular. Another day at the office...
Joe
..How does one go about the process of becoming a tax deductable rescue faciliity? Thatnks ..And Joe I totally here what you say!! I have SEEN it and it sickens me!!!!! God Bless you for the great job you and you wife and team are doing...There a special place in heaven with all our rainbow bridge pets for you all..Great Words...Barbara