Charlie
"My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.” John 10:27-30 It was November and the days were finally cooler, but they had run out of grass weeks ago. Charlie had been in this herd for months now and the demeanor of all was turning somber. No one played anymore. No one even fought. There were over eighty horses in one open space but everyone’s heads hung low. Some began to lay down, not able to get up again. Newborn foals tried to nurse but the mares had no milk. They were scared. Many had given up. On a farm in a little town called Bradyville the horses were starving to death.
After Thanksgiving, a friend of mine asked me to go to the state fairgrounds to volunteer. The Humane Society of the United States had just rescued eighty-four starving horses, the largest rescue in the state of Tennessee’s history, and they needed people to muck stalls, feed, groom and organize. I gladly joined her, reminding myself that I did not have one empty stall in the barn. I was going to help-but not adopt. The sight when we walked on to the grounds was emotionally overwhelming. There were so many. Each different, in their own stall. Some would shake in a far corner if approached, but most didn’t even look up. They were busy filling their bellies with hay.
Outside of each stall was a card with a name, approximate age, and a body score. The Henneke body score is a scale of 1-9 with eight being obese and a five being ideal. At four a faint outline of the ribs is discernable. A two is considered very thin, emaciated and a one is poor condition with no fatty tissue to be felt anywhere. All of the horses had been scored less than three by a veterinarian.
Thankfully there was much to be done, which allowed me to put my emotions on the back burner. Someone had donated blankets for the horses and they needed to be brushed before a blanket could be put on them. All of the horses were covered with rainrot, which is a fungal infection from having damp, dirty skin; care must be taken when grooming them as it could be painful to the horses.
I walked into a stall marked with the name “Charlie.” Approximate age: 5. Gender: gelding. Breed: Paint. Medical conditions: rainrot, conjunctivitis. Body score: 2.5.
Charlie stopped eating to acknowledge me but only for a second. Then his head dropped into his hay pile again. I took a brush and started smooth, long strokes on his body. He looked relaxed so I continued to his back and his legs. I switched brushes and started combing his mane. His head came up and he leaned into me. He likes it! I combed some more and started scratching him. He was itchy! His head moved in rhythm to my scratching. I naturally began talking to him. More scratching and brushing. After about ten minutes, I stopped. Charlie turned and looked at me, reached over and kissed my nose.
It was a nibble really.
Then he went back to eating.
I couldn’t believe what had just happened. None of my seven horses at home had ever done that, and they weren’t starving! It was a thank you! A show of appreciation. A measure of trust after being so neglected.
That was all it took for me to start planning and rationalizing how I could adopt Charlie. All of the horses needed homes and were up for adoption and some had already been claimed. They had been living at the fairgrounds for weeks now and needed to be adopted before Christmas. I was worried someone had already spoken for him. I hurriedly filled out the necessary paper work and requested Charlie. This wasn’t about me needing a horse to ride. No function or practicality. I didn’t even know if he was broke!
This was about something meant to be.