$1,335 raised
45% of $3k goal
5 contributors
5 Years running
Somewhere...Somewhere in time's Own Space. There must be some sweet pastured place. Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow
Some Paradise where horses go, for by the love that guides my pen
I know great horses live again. ~Stanley Harrison
APOLLO NEEDS CONTINUOUS MEDICAL CARE, DAILY HOOF TREATMENTS, BUILDING SUPPLIES FOR SHELTER, ROTATING BLANKETS, SPECIALLY PREPARED FOOD, SUPPLEMENTS & A LOT OF TENDER LOVING CARE! Apollo is under the care of Furry K9 Animal Rescue, a 501c3 rescue licensed with the State of Idaho. APOLLO'S STORY: I was born a strong horse. I took pride in being a work horse for many years, and was respected for my both my character and my physical strength. I was a handsome horse. I worked hard for the people who took care of me, believing that if I did what was expected of me and more, without causing anyone any trouble, there would always be a reason to keep me around and make sure that I was well cared for. Over the last few years, things have changed out here in the fields. I got through the tough times knowing that after an exhausting and frustrating day, there was always a comfortable place for me to come home to. With less work to do, working horses like me started to get passed around from one owner to another. I adjusted quite well the first time around, and managed to get through the third and the fourth. But as the years of neglect began to take their toll, I found myself the target of angry, desperate, hopeless and ruthless men. I suffered at the hands of these evil people for years. They worked me to the bone, day in and day out, and tossed me aside to fend for myself, when I was longer useful to them. Days of having enough food to eat, enough fresh clean water to drink, enough shelter to protect myself from the harsh elements of the Southern Idaho desert, were replaced with never ending days of complete desolation, hunger, and despair. For the past year, I have dreaded each morning and feared each night, not knowing if it would be the day my suffering would finally come to an end. I was of no use to anyone, including myself, and I resigned myself to the fact that my death would be painful, that I would suffer alone, and I hoped for the end to come quietly and made my peace. There were days when I would be consumed by anger and others when I would be overcome with grief. All I could think about, was "Why did my life end up like this?" I had always believed that working hard, showing up each day ready and willing to get the job done, without uttering a complaint or drawing any unnecessary attention to oneself, would make a fate like this unthinkable for a strong horse like me. I now live with a long scar on my face, a scar that was years in the making, and has caused me a great deal of discomfort and personal shame. Each painful breath reminds me that I wear the mark of a forgotten working horse. A horse that is no longer valued, no longer wanted, with no hope or a reason to carry on. I somehow survived this past winter, finding comfort in knowing that it would be my last. I had come to accept that death would soon be upon me, and patiently waited for my soul to pass on. I came to understand the power of practicing acceptance, and learned to live with what I did not have the power to change. Accepting my death gave me a strange sense of comfort at times and somehow made it less painful to survive just one more day. I gave up trying to walk with my legs and hooves in the condition they were in, and hoped each night for the spirits to spare me the heartache of having to wake up and face one more day. One morning, after a particularly difficult night, I awoke to a sound that I quickly recognized from my days spent working on the land. The sound grew louder and the dust cloud grew closer, and I stood there hopeful, yet afraid. The man drove by slowly and looked me straight in the eye, and something told me not to fear him. He led me to a trailer, and helped me walk up the ramp. The ride along the rocky desert road was unbearable, and I was barely able to keep my legs from buckling beneath me, and my body from violently crashing to the ground. This man was unsure of what to do with me, and did not have the means to give me what I need. He wasn’t an innately evil man, he just had no use for a damaged old work horse like me. I heard him talk about the slaughter house. I no longer have to imagine the horrors that go on there. He gave a very thorough explanation of that. I will never know how my friend came to know that I was here, but she has given me the first glimpse of hope, in a very, very, long time. I was given the name of Apollo, which is also the name of the Greek God of healing, power, and light. My name has always had great meaning to me, and has been a powerful force of strength, throughout some of the most difficult times in my life. My name represents the horse within me, the horse with the fighting spirit, whose body may not last another round. I have a very long and painful road ahead of me right now, and I don't stand a chance of surviving, unless my medical needs are taken care of right away. Jena Allred, with Furry K9 Animal Rescue, a 501c3 located in Southern Idaho, has stepped up and made a commitment to do everything she can to save my life. Initial vetting, & care has exceeded the original goal of $1500, and we still have a long way to go to help him win this fight.
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