Posted: Thursday, Apr 23rd, 2009
BY: Ruth Heide

Several years ago I put $20 down on a horse.
No, I wasn’t betting.
Or maybe I was.
I was betting that this horse could have a better life.
As I recall the facts (and my fact-recalling abilities are less pronounced than they once were), the sheriff’s office in a neighboring county had confiscated this horse whose owner had neglected him severely. He was malnourished, skin and bones.
The sheriff’s office was responsible for the horse for a time but eventually had to sell him. By that time he had gained back some weight.
He was sold at the local sale barn.
I don’t know if it was that sale or a subsequent one, but ultimately this horse wound up in the queue for a Nebraska slaughterhouse. By the time I found out about the situation, it was a crisis. As I recall, it might even have been a weekend and the horse was scheduled to begin his terminal journey the next day.