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Update 01/07/2022
Irys screams loudly to thank you for saving his life – the most precious thing he has. Irys seems to be a healthy horse and perhaps after being quarantined, checked by a blacksmith and a veterinarian and a short period of observation, he will be able to look for a new adoption home. He is a very nice horse, he willingly participates in feeding with carrots, stroking and all kinds of care treatments. For now, he is looking at the horses on the other side of the fence, but if he could, he would have jumped and would have skipped the transition period. Unfortunately, this is a mandatory period for all horses that come to us from different parts of the world.

Irys, we welcome You to the herd of the hundreds of survivors and make yourself at home! We hope that when the necessary time will pass, there will be a wonderful family willing to give you an adoption house and love for the rest of your horse days.

On the other hand, we would like to thank you very much for helping Irys fulfill his dream of life. If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t be staning here now.


Because that’s how it is. For some, Santa brings gifts for Christmas.

Others ARE those gifts.

The worst thing is when the former simply do not want the latter.



Indeed, Irys was to be a gift for someones daughter. But since the buyer could not decide on one of the two horses presented to him during the negotiations, he purchased both without a second thought. With a simple plan. One will remain as a promised gift, and the other – before Christmas – will go to the trader. There was no easier way to solve the dilemma.

As it was supposed to be, it happened. The girl’s father brought two horses. The girl quickly chose the other horse, apparently he was a bit taller and prettier. And the shorter and less handsome Irys was loaded just as quickly as he was rejected. Because every day at the horse hotel is a cost.

A short story, like Christmas, but not quite. Because today, when thousands of candles are burning in the windows, when the smells of gingerbread and the streets are multiplied with Santa’s hats rushing for gifts, and every now and then the snow creaks underfoot, indifferent Irys stands in his barn, at the end of the world, forgotten and unwanted . Eventually, in a few days, an old truck will crash into the yard. In the pouring winter rain or millions of snowflakes, they will lead Irys on a thick rope, then the car gangway will crash for him and there will be silence. They will force him or he will come in alone. I do not know. I know that there nobody invites you twice. As a goodbye, the world will throw him a few drops of rain, or a few snowflakes on the warm nostrils. And then they’ll close that gangway and leave.

And it is known that from there it will not come anywhere else than straight to the slaughterhouse. For all the sharks of this business, Christmas is a golden time, and prices are exorbitantly high.



We believe in miracles. And instead of the roar of the gangplank, we want to give Irys the rest of his life for this Christmas.

Holidays, when we are all in rush, is not the best time to ask for donations to save lives. Because everyone has tons of expenses that magically multiply on Christmas days. And if I could only reschedule Irys, I would be happy to do so. But death does not choose, it takes and it does not ask. Contracts with slaughterhouses count.