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Date Posted: 16:58:35 02/03/02 Sun
Author: ~Sasha~
Author Host/IP: 216.175.44.134
Subject: I'm back, but w/ bad news, and a mission to stop it*

*the buckskin mare trots in, but w/ a sad look on her face* I've seen this happen to much, i'm not talking about the game, but real horses. I have a mission to stop this, but i need help, from all over the world. I miht as well start here. first I'd like to show you some pic's, they'll tell you most the story, but I'll fill in the holes. I must warn you some are disterbing.
This is what I am trying to stop, and i need your help to help find horses like these that need help, and help find a way to keep animals safe from this, to get the world invoverd in helping these horse, i'll take any ideas, but please help me, help the horses. they're sufering form what people do to them, they didn't do it to them selves, i have 4 horses that are abused like these, but they're in a good place, some of these may go to slaughter, and that's the last place i want them to go. so help me, help all the horses in the world. please do not use any of these photos for anything, they are copyrighted. one last thing, this will tell you how the horses are trasported to the slaughter houses. The call came. It was time to go. My friend, who drove the 18 wheeler didn't know that I was there as a witness, just companionship and a spare hand at the wheel, he thought.
"Meet me at the local truck stop,"
he said.
"Here's your chance to drive the big rig. "
I never asked him where we were going, I just grabbed an overnight bag and took off for Newburgh, New York to meet him midway on his journey.
After we exchanged greetings, I was shocked to see a double-decker stock trailer filled with horses rolling to the death house. Like prisoners on their way from Cologne to Dachau during the war, huddled together in cattle cars, these horses were en route to a similar fate - a Canadian stock yard to meet the Killers. There was a host of breeds and colors. A blaze, a star, an Appaloosa, a few Thoroughbreds, a couple of Standardbreds, some once loved child's pony. All with one thing in common, they were too naive to know that hours from now they'd get an air-gun-launched bullet between the eyes.
Eight hours into the haul (six for me) we were in Quebec.
We were there now, but three hours too early. The Killers wouldn't arrive until 6 a.m. and the slaughterhouse was as lifeless as the horses shortly would be. They were herded herded tightly on board, standing in manure and urine seeming to sense their reprieve and acted relieved. It gave me time to ask him some questions and think back on the trip.
Earlier, prior to boarding, the horses had, for the most part, been kept in holding pens at the dealers after they arrived from a number of sales. Some came directly from notable yearling venues. Others were mules, donkeys or old used-up draft and work horses.
Along the highway they had no water or hay - but they did receive provisions earlier this day - although I was told that this wasn't the usual procedure. Why feed a dead horse, right! That applied too the brood mares, heavy in foal.
Is I remember the ride, we stopped just before we reached the Canadian border. We pulled over to make sure the inmates were standing. The one thing that's not allowed by Customs officers or Federal veterinary official is a downed animal, or the load gets turned away. Just in case one was down, he could plug them in with a cattle prod. All preparations were in place. Thank God, all of these were standing, and I didn't have to watch anything more shocking than what was already happening. So, down the road a piece, when the inspectors looked in with a fla˙

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