MULINKA

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Donation Total: $10.00

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04/02/2022 Update

The old mare Mulinka is safe!

No more pain, whip, paralyzing fear – all this has been left behind the gates of our farm. We hope, Grandma Mulinka will soon forget! She is already with us, under the professional care of a veterinarian and a blacksmith, she has her own cozy box, home and family that will never let her down – all thanks to you! On behalf of Mulinka, we would like to thank you warmly for the chance for a wonderful retirenment!

 

Her Story:
The world is ending. The world of Mulinka to be exact.
No, it doesn’t apply to you.
Unless you decide otherwise ..

This is a story written with a whip. Mulinka lived on the farm. Just as ordinary as you may remember from your childhood. Cottage, garden and barn. The old wooden fence made of thin boards has long lost its color. Mulinka’s place was not rich, but it was not poor either. There was enough for a rope and a chain, not enough for a blacksmith and a vet though. Grandma Mulinka did not see much of the world. In fact, she saw nothing but her squalid backyard. Maybe she even rarely saw it. Only the path she followed into the woods every day, followed by a cart. With her, a whip raced in the air above her rump. Whip to set the pace. You may not know, but a cutting whip has very magical properties. Makes fatigue go away, Mulinka’s eyes are huge, so are her nostrils. Crooked legs tread even faster. And the heart. It is about to pop out of the chest. With the help of the whip she rushes as fast as she can on the overgrown hooves.

Although, looking at her, you would definitely wonder how she stands at all and wonder where she gets all the strength from. The whip accompanied Mulinka from the first days of her life. The host says she has always been a naughty horse. Just like her mother. He slaughtered her mother at the end of her days, many years ago. Now he will slaughter Mulinka. Because she is too slow. She should be pulling the wagon faster. And the same whip that greeted her when she came into this world will now lead her to the end of this earthly journey. Her eyes will be huge, her crooked legs will hurry up the gangplank and she will not hesitate for a moment. She came here to serve. She knows no other life. And she will humbly do whatever they say. It will last until the last second. Becouse that’s how the old devoted horses are.

The landlord yanks the old mare, who stumbles over to the barn. The old, fragile Mulinka gets two lashes there, under the barn, and straightens up like a string. “Come on, old rag, present yourself, or I’ll make a sausage out of you”, the host says roughly and releases the rope. He knows the mare will not move. How she would dare when he stands next to her.
Grandma Mulinka glances at us uncertainly. As if she didn’t know if she is allowed. I touch her ribs, run my fingers through her thin mane, and she shakes and tightens even more. She doesn’t seem to know where to expect a blow from anymore. I hear her heart pound and see terror flooding her eyes. After all these years of suffering she still is not used to fear and pain.

These few photos are the only things the host gave us time to do. Bent like a string, with its spine almost to the ground, the well-worn Mulinka stands up to fight for her life. She has nothing to offer. Her glory years are behind her a long time ago. And not much is left ahead of her.
She might just be begging you. So that her world does not end here on this farm. So that the whip that stretches her frail body to the limits would not write the endof her story. That the old wooden fence would not be the last thing she sees before she will be chased along the butchers truck gangplank.