Her only flaw was getting old?
Tammy running with her sisters at home
© Rein Photography
So I made a tough decision and sold her in 2012. I sold her to a young man who had vision and wanted a piece of what I had to offer. What more could I ask for with my Morgan treasure? Imagine my surprise when I learned of her narrow escape from the kill pen six years later. Her only flaw was getting old? Shame on him. But social media had used its powers for good this time, and I PayPal-ed her out of her sad predicament.
The drive to go get her, a week later, was four hours away. When we arrived at the facility (super early), we had to wait for the tractor trailer to arrive from its nearby holding location with the horses (a wee bit late). A cat on a hot tin
roof was my dancing feet waiting for her arrival. My patience had worn as thin as the last sip of coffee at the bottom of my travel mug vying for position between the two croissants of apprehension perched on the dash. Finally they arrived. Once the driver opened up the wide trailer door, I stood there peering in, trying to spot her from the long line of horses all tied sideways.
“Tammy. Hey, you!” I spoke. Up came her head, about halfway down the line. She looked up and out at me. I knew she knew me.