Dear friends. Nothing is impossible for You. You have performed a miracle! Instead of being sent to the slaughterhouse, Blaszka came to us. We see in her eyes disbelief, but also enormous gratitude for the opportunity she has received. She looks around the farm looking for her place in the herd. Just last formalities are left (quarantine, vet and blacksmith) and she will join the rest of the animals saved thanks to you. Thank You!
We stand in front of the old cowshed. It is so quiet before the storm that we can almost hear the ticking of our watches. Squeaky wooden doors open up a different world for us. Slowly, with great difficulty, Blaszka is coming towards us. We gave her that name. Perhaps she had a name before, but no one mentions it here. This is not a place where someone calls you in anyway. This is where you are just a number, first, second or third in a row when you walk up the gangplank. Quick and convenient and so the papers match. And money. Yes, money has to match the most.
Only she is left. Thick, crippled, on crooked legs. A while ago, there were more of them, a whole herd of ponies and a few large horses. They left at dawn two days ago. Blaszka did not manage to reach the gangway, and the driver was in a hurry. He left her for another time. And there is no shortage of opportunities. The horse trade blooms like flowers in spring, the epidemic has changed little here.
Everything around seems to hang under a gray sky, as if the world has stopped. Even the birds stopped singing. But be assured, we don’t like places like this and you wouldn’t like them either. Here you can feel the blood in the air, everything mixes with some nothingness. However, you have to clench your fists and try not to hit them against the wall. Because otherwise nothing will happen. Little Blaszka looks piercingly through the gray, dense air, closes her eyes and we do not know if it is tears or omnipresent moisture. The trader tells her to turn but she is unable to. She stumbles and spins. We ask him to stop pushing her around. But he is the master of the situation. Tearing the rope, he knocks Blaszka over. She loses her balance and lays her head on a concrete slab. She lies for a moment with her eyes closed. We want to take her in our arms and run away with her, where our eyes will carry us. Even to the end of the world, or at least beyond the gate.
When Blaszka is lying there, a ruddy housewife peeks out from behind the door. Shouts out that dinner is on the table. The host gets irritated. He wants to kick Blaszka, but we beg him not to, we say that we will take her to us in a moment.
“Why do you need such an old rag?, I will find you a nice pony for children at this price, and not such an old waste” – he adds, pulling Blaszka with force back to the barn. Blaszka does not protest, pulls out small hooves for a moment in front of him and looks at us with imploring eyes in which the last sparks of hope are burning. Nothing else left for Blaszka, but to beg. She also has nothing to offer, no bargaining chip. There is also no argument to spare Blaszka just for life itself. Her twisted legs will not carry her anywhere anymore. The changes in the joints are permanent, and Blaszka will never be a healthy pony again. In the villages they say about such horses that the slaughterhouse is their salvation. Poor life, miserable death.
We go into the barn for a moment, then we approach Blaszka. We stroke her ears, her soft nostrils, and comb the chestnut mane with our fingers. It is extraordinary, when Blaszka opens her eyes and looks at you, this moment of beauty in a surrounding ugliness. And you can see that this animal has no aggression in it, nor does it feel any regrets. It agrees with everything. She’s just begging. But she puts her fate in your hands. No expectations. Only scraps of hope for a miracle.
Let’s do a miracle together for Blaszka. She didn’t have too many miracles in her life. Let’s save her miserable life. The rest of the miracles will be done by a farrier and a vet. In our country, with modern medicine, such horses live for many years without pain. And they leave when their natural time comes. A miracle has a material dimension. We have to pay PLN 4,500 (1185 USD) for Blaszka’s life and transport to our center. We don’t have much time, only until September 25th. If you want to add your pennies towards Blaszka’s miracle, you can make a donation to BNP Paribas PL36 1750 1064 0000 0000 2257 6747 Swift: PPABPLPK with the title “miracle for Blaszka”.
In the name of Blaszka – we thank you in advance for this miracle … without you hope will die out.