TAKEN FROM COLBY'S CREW RESCUE

WARNING: graphic content, viewer discretion is advised but if you can… don’t look away. Keep reading. Their stories deserve to be told.
Last night I woke up in a full fledged panic attack. My Apple Watch vibrated a stern alert— heart rate: 120.
My cardiologist says I’ve got something called an SVT. Basically my heart just randomly beats out of control— faster and faster until I fall to my knees gasping for breath.
Avoid stress, alcohol, caffeine— he lists everything out in a quiet drone, unaware that my stress levels are rising.
I lay there in bed, in sweat soaked sheets, trying not to wake my wife Ally whose eyes would snap open without complaint. She’d sit up, rub my back, nurse me like a little child— she needs her strength for tomorrow and she’s just as exhausted as I am. She has her own burden to carry. I fight the SVT and my heart races on… 120, 130, 140…
We had spent the entire day in the only legit horse slaughter holding facility on the east coast. I’d seen horrible things on horses— fractured joints, knobby knees that’d been broken and never seen a vet so they’d healed crooked and painful, the little pony limping gingerly around as Cody, the killbuyer, said, “the Amish guy said he was working in the garden yesterday.”
On two fractured knees with arthritis so bad he’d grown KNOTS?
Something has got to give. Someone has got to say ENOUGH. Laws need to change. *People* need to change.
Horses cannot be sold in this condition anymore. It doesn’t matter if they are “livestock”. We have better rules and regulations for other animals actually raised for consumption. It cannot remain legal for them to be dumped or worked or sold in this condition anymore.
But it is. Right now. It is.
The stress of what we see, the stress of that pony standing quietly beside Ally calmly and patiently, as gentle as a lamb when even I can see as no veterinary surgeon that the only relief we can bring him is a humane dignified end.
Ally will remain hopeful but she will see the face of the treating veterinarian and swallow. She will nod. And then… My wife will cry quietly into his neck, braid his thick beautiful mane, and tell him what a good boy he is over and over again.
Our vet, Noel will stand beside her, fighting tears himself, and we will say goodbye because there is nothing left to do. No trick left to save him.
The only peace we can bring him is eternal, but my wife will let him take a piece of her heart with him. And I wonder how many pieces she has left to give.
Behind him stands 50 more horses quietly waiting to be noticed. Some of them tossed away with injuries so terrible it makes me sick. Some of them young and healthy, and gentle, and it makes no sense why they’re here — at the last stop. Held up here where they will ship to Canada and be brutally slaughtered.
Whether it’s a northern trip to be shot in the head and rendered, or down south to Mexico where the brutality increases— they are run in a chute, stopped, a man slits their throat (a bullet is too costly) with a blade that has ended the lives of many, many horses before them and they bleed out as they’re rendered.
It’s horrific. It’s barbaric.
And you need to know this is happening, dear readers. You need to know this happens again and again and again to all the horses in line. They slip in the blood of the horses before them. They smell it. They know.
They don’t slaughter foals so they separate mothers and foals. Sometimes the foals are shot but if they can survive until the next auction, they are sold to the highest bidder where the stress alone kills them or the contagious illnesses running rampart at the pen and auction.
I think of baby Bison, a victim of such a practice, and want to scream. Did his mother scream from him again and again as she was ripped away? Probably. I think of how hard that was on Ally and how we just barely saved him from passing from a contagious virus. If she’d lost him…
It’s all an equine tragedy and nobody is stopping it. These horses are tortured endlessly their entire lives and they give so freely and kindly just to be used and tossed like trash.
My stomach hurts. My body rejects this. My mind rejects this.
No wonder I’m waking up in the middle of the night with an out of control heart. I can’t stand what I see, I can’t process it… my brain protects me until I’m asleep and then the stress, the horror it finally catches up to me and my heart says I’ll get us out of here. Run, run, run.
But my feet won’t move. Can’t move.
If I run now, 50 more horses will die. Certainly. There is no one else coming for these horses. It’s just up to me. To us. To save them. To offer them love and peace and veterinary care.
My wife runs a 501c3 horse rescue called Colby’s Crew. She fearlessly fights to save every single horse in the pen. She sends them to 5 separate quarantine locations, with a vet team totaling over 20+ vets, and either offers them sanctuary, a peaceful passing or a forever home with their forever family. With 9 different trainers on our team, we are capable of fixing behavioral issues as well.
We’re ready.
We have the room.
And we’ll face the horrors to save them.
But we need you.
We cannot save these horses alone.
Please consider tuning into our live feed and watching. Their stories deserve to be told.
Please consider using one of the donation options below. YOU can make a difference to these horses right now by donating just $10. If every single one of our supporters did so, we could raise millions.
We could continue to expand and develop and grow bigger and better for these horses.
We have only one goal: build a better tomorrow for these horses today.
We do this by saying #NOTONEMORE horse ships to slaughter. #NOTONEMORE horse suffers needlessly.
Please join us.
We need you.
Let’s do this.
TO DONATE:
Venmo: ohkaytacos (under the business tab)
PayPal & Zelle : ohkaytacos@gmail.com
Cashapp: $colbyscrew
Physical address: PO BOX 6992 Charlottesville, VA 22906
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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