Baletka

I’d like to put a lot of energy into telling you about this little pony today. But I’m at a loss for words. A new year has begun, and this year we’ll be celebrating 20 years of operation. And well over 3,000 horses rescued together with you. You are the ones who create the largest sanctuary for horses and donkeys in the world. No one else.

And against this backdrop, I stand here, in this barn, amidst the melting snow, gazing at the same image – large, terrified eyes staring into mine, begging that dying wouldn’t have to hurt.

I don’t like writing about death. You’ve been doing it for 20 years. Because death – somehow – is a part of life. I saw thousands of them who just passed me by and climbed the gangplank. I followed them with my eyes, trying to give them a name, an identity – before they vanished in the darkness of those trucks. But there was something beautiful in it all. Because one of them was turning around. And coming back to us. To die? Yes. But in due time.

Baletka stood here with a larger herd. They’re gone now. They took them. A moment ago. She stayed for the next transport.

Who is she? I don’t know. You won’t be charmed by her story. They tossed her from barn to barn. She gave birth somewhere, stood at some festival, her legs buckling under her from the overweight tourists. Then something happened. And then she ended up here.

Ballet Dancer. In all her ponytailed, terrified glory, she stands before you today and begs you to give her the opportunity to choose when and where she goes.

The slaughterhouse won’t give her that choice.
Only you can.
Will you act for her?