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I went to the Stephenville, TX auction Friday night to investigate
allegations of abuse. I went with a friend, and met up with Amanda
J. at the auction.
There was a big crowd at Stephenville, and a lot of very nice
horses. Prices ranged from $30.00 for a pitiful, weak weanling colt to
$4,200 for a stunning young quarter horse stallion.
Amanda was given a donation to buy a donkey or a mule. She ended up
buying the cutest little thing for $110.
The killer buyer was named Jones, a deplorable man in a pink cowboy
shirt wearing a handlebar mustache. He often set the opening bids.
He bought between 15-20 horses, all fat, sleek and healthy except for
2 or 3 which were lame. Some very nice horses went to him between
$400-$800. Pasture horses. Foals, yearlings. Mules. People's pets.
Kid's mares. Stallions. A beautiful palomino barrel horse that "won
his owner lots of money over the last several years," but had
developed a lameness in his front leg. (What a nice ending to a
horse that made someone money!!) With papers, without papers, it
didn't matter. They were all going to the same place.
They may have been tipped off, but everyone working the auction
seemed to be watching what they were
doing when handling the animals, even the scumbag that herded the
horses in and out with a long pole. It started out nice enough. Most
of the night, he used it to tap the horses. But the later into the
night it got, the more freely he swung his weapon, popping horses on
the head, jabbing ribs and hind ends. By the end of the night, he
forgot to be on his best behavior. That's when I snapped.
Well, I ended up buying a bay Thoroughbred colt for $190.00. It was midnight,
everyone had left except for a few, and nobody wanted this colt. So
the killer buyer bid the opening bid, $150.00
They were whipping, beating and jabbing him with poles. He stood,
his long legs shaking in fear, looking bewildered. He wasn't doing
anything bad. He just wasn't moving quick enough for them. He
turned to look at his tormentor, and his face and big brown eyes
said, "Why are you hitting me? I am trying to do what you want."
For this, he was hit over the head. The men laughed, like this was
entertainment.
I told Amanda to bid. (I didn't have a bid card.) The killer buyer
followed me up to $190, then quit. He was mine.
Bidding over, the man with the long pole started whipping him out of the ring. The
colt froze, unsure, and the man viciously poked him in the butt over
and over.
I sprang to my feet and yelled, "QUIT BEATING MY HORSE!" All these
cowboy hats turned in unison toward me, eyes staring. The auctioneer
laughed, thinking I was kidding. Then, he saw my face. They were
all laughing at me, just like they laughed at the little colt for
being scared. I was furious.
Amanda, Jill and I jumped up, and ran out to the pens to inspect my
purchase.
He was a sweet boy, not a mean bone in his body, tall and beautiful.
About a year old, I guessed. A nice, yearling colt.
I was in shock. I had bought a horse! He was very nervous from being
mistreated, but was eating grain out of my hand within 15 minutes.
His name, which we all agreed upon: M'Pulse.
We were there all night. We had to call a horsey friend at 12:30 AM
and have them bring a trailer from 2 hours away. (I had not planned
to bring a horse home.) Then, it took us 1 hour to load the colt. He
had no idea about trailers. He had a nice, slow lesson.
The drive home was another 2 hours. By the time we unloaded (no
problems) and got him squared away in a stall, the sun was coming up.
Today, the colt has settled down and is enjoying the attention he is
getting. He is really beautiful, and a willing and honest boy.
I can't believe he almost ended up in Mr. Jones overcrowded truck--
crammed full of doomed horses.
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