The Stroke of a Legislative Pen stood between her Life and her Death
“On 9/21/2007 the bloody, preditory Illinois horse slaughter plant, Cavel, was shut down as outlined by Vicki Tobin in the previous submission. It was such a moving moment that I sat down, on that day, and penned the following story which is now included in our book, Straight from the Horses Heart: A Spiritual Ride through Love, Loss and Hope. It brings me to tears to read the story, even today, when I think of the hundreds of thousands of horses that have been sent across our borders to suffer unimaginable terror and suffering since the closing of the U.S. plants. And on the other side of the bloody coin it incites in me great anger to see the likes of Sue Wallis and Dave Duquette flood the internet with lies, deceit and corruption in an effort only to make money from the flesh and blood of our equine companions. Please, help us keep our American horses alive and well.” ~ R.T.
She stood in a dimly lit, narrow alleyway with just four other horses ahead of her. She was the last one in line followed only by a mean spirited human that prodded her with a stick every time a horse at the front of the line was pushed through the doors ahead. The doors simply snapped open and the crowded horse would leap forward to escape. Instantly, they slammed shut followed by not only mechanical and unknown sounds but by the soul rendering screams of horses in agony. She had no way of knowing where she was.
As the poking and prodding grew more intense and the screams grew ever closer she had no way of knowing that for years people across the nation and around the world were sweating blood and crying tears to prevent her from being pressed against those very same doors.
She had no way of knowing, as she was forced through the doors and into the confining chute, that only a pen and a piece of paper stood between her life and her death.
When the captive bolt gun hit her forehead and she spastically crumpled to the floor, while her bladder emptied, she had no way of knowing that the humans around the chute were enjoying this last kill. They resented her life and her very essence.
As the chain from the overhead winch was wrapped around her left rear hoof and she was brutally hoisted into the air, she had no way of knowing that people would be celebrating this day as a happy, triumphant occurrence.
While the knife cleanly yet cruelly slit her throat and her own warm blood ran down her face and into her dilated nostrils, she had no way of knowing that the event of her death would be documented, cherished, and revered for all time. The senseless killing was over.
And finally, as her spirit unwillingly was wrenched from her butchered and mutilated body, she had no way of knowing that she was truly, the last one…the last horse to be killed in the US for human consumption in lands far, far, away. She was the last one to suffer, the last one to die, the last one to cry out, and the last one to be lost.
She had no way of knowing….
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- Dirty Little Secret: Canada’s Horse Slaughter Industry Under Fire (rtfitch.wordpress.com)
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