sharp intake of breath reminds me where I am. My eyes intake the horrific scene before me. All of these horses, either starving, injured, or even being dragged off of the scene, dead. All of them, busted, bruised, and abused. I gape at all of them. How could someone do this to an animal?
I think. All that they have been through shocks me like a rattlesnake has just bitten me; not too uncommon in the Nevada area. I shiver and breathe warm huffs into my hands to warm them up. The fence I am sitting on creaks and groans in the cold wind. Not the safest place to be…. But thinking about the mustangs makes me stop pitying myself.I had found out about the accident in my local newspaper. I had been reading the comics when the headline screamed out at me; NEVADA COUPLE FOUND ABUSING MUSTANGS
. They hadn't been able to feed their horses, and had expected that they just find food themselves. No brushing, no food, no exercise, not even one healing word or pat of kindness. The evilness of it all winds itself into my stomach like a coiling rope, tightening itself until I can't breathe.
The good news: my family and I are able to save one of them. As soon as they heard about the situation, they rushed to the scene; both of them being vets. I wish I could just take all of them, never letting them suffer like this again. But back to that fateful question, the one that had been threatening to overwhelm my brain all week; which one?