Subject: [againstslaughter] Stephenville got the
message! (long)
I am very happy to report a turn of events at the Stephenville auction. Several
agencies were involved.
Evidently, they got wind of what was going down last night. We were
greeted at the door with this sign:
NO DOGS NO ALCOHOL
NO GRIPERS, COMPLAINERS OR TROUBLEMAKERS
IF YOU FALL INTO ANY OF THESE CATEGORIES--PLEASE DON'T ENTER--
THIS IS CHRISTMAS AND THE SPIRIT IS IN THIS PLACE--WE SURE HATE TO
SPOIL IT.
I read the sign and laughed. I wondered if any of the horses standing out
back were feeling the "Christmas Spirit".
The next clue came when the "stick man" came out minus his dreaded
stick. He had been given a short whip with a quirt on the end. He had very
little interaction with the horses all night, stepping forward only occasionally
when needed to give a light flick of the whip.
Another new thing was the big, wide, plastic "paddles" on poles being
used to herd the horses out of the ring. I took this as a visible sign
that someone was trying to change things.
Everyone was on their best behavior, and the auction proceeded without incident.
There was a whole row of "us" watching, and we were pleased to see the
progress, and Billy Bob in the ring had obviously been reined in.
The only distressing thing I saw was two horses in poor physical condition
standing in a pen by themselves in the very back. One of the horses had a
huge bulge on it's neck. It actually looked like the neck was broken. He
had dried mud from his hooves to over his ankles, like he had been standing in
deep muck. He had a snotty nose.
His companion was worse. This horse was laying down at 2:30 pm, and at 5:30 pm
was in the same position, having never moved. He was in obvious pain. He
ears were back, nostrils curled and his eyes were filled with pain. I
thought he must be colicking, so I approached
the Vet on duty doing the coggins tests, a Dr. Reese from Oklahoma. I told him
the horse had been down for hours, was in pain and asked if he could have a
look. He refused, saying that the owner of the horse had to tell him to
look at it, and until then there was nothing he
could do. He advised me to tell the owner of the auction, Rusty Addison
about it. I started walking around, trying to find this man. A few
minutes later, a man approached me and told me they had got the horse up and it
wasn't colicky, just "crippled". I immediately returned to look,
and the horse was up on 3 feet. It's right front hoof was twisted to the side
from the ankle, and he could not bear weight on it. It looked very painful.
Nothing more was done
for this horse, and he was actually put through the auction, hobbling down the
chute and into the ring. Of course the killer buyer Jones got him. I went down
to the ring and watched closely to make sure nobody tried to hurry this horse or
force him along. Once again,
everyone behaved and let the horse take it's time. To me, it was
absolutely insane to make this horse endure the pain of being transported and
walking through the auction.
The killer buyer Jones bought 4 donkeys at $25.00 each, a nice mule for $160,
and 17 horses for these prices: $185-$825. He paid $370 for the lame
horse.
After the auction was over, I went out to the parking lot to observe loading.
I spotted a double decker truck and went to jot down the license plate number
for our National databank. As I wrote on my notepad, I heard a voice from over
my shoulder, "What are you doing? Why are you writing down my license
number?" My blood went cold and I turned around to find myself face
to face with Mr. Jones. Luckily, he was not mean or nasty, but he wanted to know
what I was up to. He said he knew who I was, and wanted to know why I called him
a "deplorable man in a pink shirt". I told him I didn't know
what he was talking about. I told him there were people all over, writing down
license numbers of double deckers hauling horses, and we were keeping track.
Boy, did that surprise him! He asked why I was so interested in double deckers,
and I explained they were not meant for hauling horses. I asked him if his had a
ramp from the upper deck, or if the horses had to jump to the lower deck. He
said his was equipped with a ramp, and offered to show me. He opened up the back
doors,
jumped in and invited in in for a look. I eyed him suspiciously and asked,
"You aren't going to kill me if I come in there, are you?" He just
laughed, "No...!" then extended his hand to pull me up. I felt
like I had to see with my own eyes and there were plenty of people
around, so up I went. He pulled the ramp out and gave me a demonstration.
Satisfied, I jumped out quickly.
He tried to convince me he was a "nice guy" and that it hurt his
feelings being called "deplorable". He invited me to go on the
road with him for a week and watch him work. He said it might change my mind. I
declined, saying he could never change my mind, (although it
would probably make a good documentary.)
I told him what he was doing was wrong. I said, "Anyone who makes a
living off taking healthy, defenseless horses to be slaughtered for steaks...well,
that's just wrong." He was silent for a moment, then he said,
"Hey, I've got feelings, too."
"Really?", I retorted. I told him if he had any feelings at all,
to take it easy on the crippled horse when he loaded him. I pleaded with him to
show this horse some mercy, because that was all I could do for the poor beast.
He said he would be careful, and I left praying he really meant it.
It all sank in on the drive home that "they" are reading Mary Nash's
website. Mr. Jones asked me who Sarah Noslaughter was. (This was the
name used on Mary's website for an auction witness. I told him I had no idea
what he was talking about.)
Jones told me he even had a copy of the last auction story, printed out.
Yes, "they" are reading Mary's website...I am sure we could use this
to our advantage....