CYNAMONEK

Cynamonek hangs his head and stares at the floor for a moment. The rope is hanging loose. He doesn’t have to stay tight. He’s not going anywhere. Hooves pointing towards the sky, because they have not seen a blacksmith for a long time, if ever. And looking in the same direction, praying that dying wouldn’t hurt. Because Cinnamon knows that he will die. What else could he count on in his age and in the face of his disability …?

When we arrived, the horse was still standing in the trader’s car. I suspect that he was standing here for a few days, because they were afraid to take it out, afraid he would break apart. Everyone was wondering whether to take it immediately for slaughter or to feed it to a better weight first. After the family meeting, the trader decided that it was scary to keep the crippled. They called us. Then they sent us a photo. A short question was asked “do you want a cripple? Because I don’t know if he will get to the slaughterhouse standing ”.

This barn, chains and loading docks are a family business. Parents and grandfather are doing business here, and children are helping. Work like work, as they explain to us. They have been doing this for many generations. They saw much worse horses than Cynamon. The old gentleman only spits when we ask where the horse is from. He won’t tell us anything. Everyone here protects each other. “Take it or get out” . And the old man disappears behind the barn with the pitchfork.

We look timidly into the car, we stare at Cynamonek. This is a Polish horse, or rather what’s left of it. Because Cynamonek is barely standing on its bent legs. We have around 50 such horses running around our reserve for survivors. But we know that Cinnamon will never run anywhere again. Looking at the hooves, I doubt he even knows what running is. I don’t know what someone was doing with him and why someone decided to save on a blacksmith for many years. But it doesn’t matter anymore. In the place where Cynamon stands now, everything is no longer important. Because the only thing that separates him from death is our decision whether we undertake to seek funds to save him.

Of course we’ll do our best, Cynamonek. We will tell the world about you.

So I take out my camera and take a few photos. As I try to get closer, Cynamonek starts shaking and his eyes go huge. Probably no one cared about his disability, it was just that he was always chased with a whip to his feet and forward. Who cares. And he was walking, though inside he was screaming in pain. But horses suffer silently. This is their curse. Just look away and the conscience is already clear.

We are reluctant to leave Cynamonek in a place where no one cares about him. The merchant says when he is driving away that he will call someone and do something with his hooves. This news freeze us. We ask him not to do this. Because Cynamonek might not survive this clash with a whip.

We have to collect 4,600 zlotys (1132 USD) to collect him, i.e. pay for his life and transport to our center. We have until February 18th. Will you join?

 

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