The Forgotten

Life has not been good for a while. But I hope and I wait. It might get better. I have done all
that is asked of me and I know that I am not self sufficient. I depend. On others whose lives
and circumstances dictate if I get a flake of hay that day or my water bucket will be filled. I do
not know my future but I am anxious, tired and hungry. There is no morning and night feeding,
something I had taken for granted in years past. I wait, and I watch, but people, my people,
pass me by, as if I am invisible. I am not. I am here waiting.
The horse trailer is hooked up. That usually means I am going somewhere. I used to be
treated special when we went in the trailer. Maybe my folks will remember how they used to be
when they brought me somewhere in the trailer. No… they do not. My people find the oldest
dirtiest halter to put on me for the trip. Not my leather one. And no bath. No hay in the hay bag
either. I load anyway.
I am in a place worse than my home. I smell fear, sickness and panic. I see people but they do
not see me. They look through me as if I am not right in front of them. They cannot see who I
am, who I was, how Kind I have been Day in and Day out. They see something to avoid.
I am in a bigger lot now, with horses like me. We are the Forgotten ones. If I could speak
human I would ask why? I cannot speak and so I am herded onto a trailer I have to crouch down
to stand among the rest of the tired hungry sad souls who are just like me. We ride in the trailer
for days. Some horses fall down and are stepped on. It cannot be avoided but we try to be
careful with our feet. I am tired I am hungry and I am thirsty. I don’t want to give up but I have
been given up on.
Will anyone remember who I was?
Likely not. People are busy.

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