Jogurt is safe! As always, you have done your best and miracles are in your power. And we have a miracle. Thank you!
Now Jogurt awaits the vet, the blacksmith, meeting new colleagues and friends, and getting to know us. Only in a few weeks will we be able to determine whether Jogurt is a horse eligible for adoption or a horse for companionship only.
Jogurt was a beloved horse. He had everything a horse could think of. And even more. Nice, warm stable, loving caretaker. But they say that there is only one step from love to hate. And when suddenly Jogurt fell ill, the fairy tale ended with the diagnosis. With the end of the fairy tale, love has flown away like camphor. And everything else that comes from love. When it turned out that Jogurt was limping more and more and it could not be used, the decision was made in 5 minutes. This is probably the shortest 5 minutes in the life of the Jogurt. And it defined everything.
Then everything happened quickly. You have to look for a new horse, you need money. The money from returning Jogurt to the slaughterhouse will not settle everything, but it is a good start. So, under the cover of night, the one who sweeps such subjects under the rug in the nearby stables came, thanks to which the horse melts in the air. Because no one wants to be the one to slaughter a horse. Retirement sounds better. And since the horse was later under the knife, others are to blame. It’s so typical of many horse stories. Typical of many horse owners. The traders’ barns are full of retired horses waiting for green pastures.
It’s just that these pastures are no longer for them. I always wonder why horse owners have the idea that if they didn’t want to keep a sick horse, someone else would do it for them. Well he won’t. For the same reason they got rid of the horse themselves. Because it doesn’t pay off.
When we meet Jogurt, there is no trace of his former life. He stands tied to metal bars, in line with the others. An old halter on the head. In the eyes disbelief, uncertainty and despair.
I look around where the other horses should be. The place is empty. Quiet. Gloomy. There are only ropes left after other companions, as if the last witness to their presence. The trader hoped to find someone who would buy Jogurt for more money. After all, he was from a good stable. Maybe someone will fall for him. But although they watched, no one wanted the lame one.
Jogurt has been around for a long time. Too long. His destiny is about to be fulfilled. In a moment the gangplank will drop down for him, and his rope will hang loose like a silent witness of his presence. While he is counting down his last days and all hope fades in his big eyes, a new model is already living in the nice and warm stable. But there is nothing to envy. One mistake, one diagnosis – and he will climb the same gangway and leave, under the same dark sky. And he will stand in the same row. ‘Cause it always ends when love flies. Because it was never really love. Because true love only begins when we love someone that we do not need for anything.
It seems that Jogurt has never been loved. He doesn’t know what love is. The only concern was that someone needed him. Its owner was a 16-year-old girl. I don’t know what they teach in schools today, remotely or not, but I know what they don’t teach. They don’t teach that you can’t throw your friends away when they break down. They do not teach responsibility and love, the true unconditional one. And unfortunately, the parents of many children do not teach it either. Maybe because they don’t understand it themselves. And this is not about one Jogurt. It’s about everything else. The point is that we get rid of it so easily that we lack empathy, that we use someone for our needs and then we get rid of them in 5 minutes. It doesn’t matter it’s just a horse. If you looked Jogurt in the eye, you would understand that it is just a symbol. Anyway, you can do it. The frightened Jogurt looks at you from the photo ..
I come out of the barn. I close the door silently. The trader is standing outside leaning against the wall, he didn’t rush me. It’s a young boy. He smiles, throws out the unburned cigarette and says “I feel sorry for this horse, I feel sorry for all of them, but I do what I do, ma’am, if they did not get rid of them, I would not have this job and I would probably do something else”.
Maybe yes maybe no. I don’t know what he would be doing. But he is right about one thing. It doesn’t all start in this barn. It all starts where such Jogurts are sentenced. This barn is only the fulfillment of the fate to which they were sentenced.