Lego stands as it stood. Erect. He looks around carefully to see if someone’s eyes are on him. As if he wanted to present himself. As if he would like to hold his gaze at all costs, until the gaze goes out, they will pass the threshold of the old barn together and go wherever the gaze is full of love.

It was like that already. He survived it. He has presented himself like this once before. When they came to pick him up at the merchant. Him especially! He stared with those big eyes, craned his neck and cocked his ears upright. They took him then. He was beautiful. He went to recreation, they quickly put him in order and taught him to obey. Time did the rest.

Several seasons passed, the legs swelled a little and the spine crashed. Lego was looking in vain for a gaze full of love. There was no more patting, no more carrots, and the colorful halter had turned gray and faded. Days and nights passed, and weeks passed. And it happened. It happened lasty winter. Lego was still standing to attention for whoever was entering the stables. But he suddenly became invisible. He stopped enjoying the paddocks, he stopped having visitors, he ceased to exist. The sight that had previously been full of love appeared only occasionally, but no longer hung on Lego. The Lego stall was empty. An emptiness that did not bode for him a future here.


Until one January evening, when the stables were deserted and at nightfall, the roar of the engine announced to Lego that love had evaporated. After a few months, someone finally entered his cubicle. Erect as a string, happy poor Lego, he walked proudly through the stables. He was convinced that now everything would be as before.

But the gaze that led him was mute. And the hand tugged like never before.

Nothing would be as it used to be. Lego was walking confidently through the stable, he was walking confidently through the yard in the winter storm. He confidently climbed the gangplank. And he stood on the top of the car, from where the world could only be seen through the bars. He was peering around to see if he was doing well. But through his bars he could see an empty yard. There was no one there. He rode on alone.

This is how Lego returned to where it all began. And now it will lead him to the end.

This is not an unusual story. Thousands of recreational horses, like Lego, lost human love because they were no longer able to work. And they fill the slaughterhouses. Apparently there is just one step from love to hate. And within minutes, Lego understood this message.

So what is left for Lego, if not to straighten up, put your ears upside down and look for us. You me. Anyone.


Because Lego is a horse that lasts until the end. When walking along the narrow butcher’s corridor, he will probably be as straight as a string, he will walk proudly and closely observe the surroundings. Because even there he will look for a gaze full of love.

Maybe he will lose hope when they shoot him in the head and suddenly he crashes to the ground. Or maybe he will never lose it, maybe even when he loses consciousness, his heart will be filled with its heat. Maybe he’ll take hope with him, across the Rainbow Bridge.

Because hope is good. Sometimes it is the only thing that allows you to look with love at the world around you.

And maybe Lego will stand, full of hope, out there in evergreen pastures. And he will be looking at us here, straight as a string, with his ears raised proudly. And he will continue to look for what he lost here.

I don’t know where the horses go after they die. I also don’t know where Lego will go. But now, when I stroke his warm snores and hear his heart still beating, wherever he goes – I don’t want to let him go without trying to save him.

Look at Lego’s big eyes, catch him for a moment with your eyes. The gaze he so desperately searches for. A few thousand people like you are enough to save him. We are collecting here for life for Lego. A brave horse that stands at your attention today. And on his behalf, I am begging you for his life.

The trader demands PLN 11,800 (2902 USD) for life and transport. The gracious time runs for him until February 24. Then it will be zero o’clock. And we will never again meet a brave, straightened horse who believed in man to the end.


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