Margret
Most just call her Marg.
She answers to both with the same soft look, the kind that reaches straight through your ribs and settles somewhere tender.
We got the call from the sheriff on a gray afternoon. He warned us it was a sad situation. An old mare dumped in a neighborhood. Just left there. No halter, no explanation. Just… done with.
We have picked up thin horses before. We have picked up scared horses. We have picked up forgotten horses.
But we were not prepared for Marg.
She stood like a ghost of herself. Hips sharp, ribs counting the days, eyes unsure. Not wild. Not mean. Just bewildered. As if she could not understand how a life spent carrying humans could end on the side of a road.
You can tell she was somebody once. The kind of mare that probably taught generations to ride. The steady one. The babysitter. The confidence builder. The one who forgave crooked hands and bouncing legs. The one parents trusted. The one kids whispered secrets into while braiding her mane.
And when she was no longer useful, she was discarded.
It is a quiet kind of heartbreak to load a horse like that into your trailer. She still walked right in. Still trusting. Still willing to go wherever you asked. That alone told us everything about her.
Marg is still thin. We will not pretend she is not. But we have finally found what works for her. Groceries that stick. A feeding plan her body agrees with. She has been wormed and had her teeth floated with us. Each week she looks a little less like a shadow and a little more like herself.
And she wants attention. Desperately.
She has become a barn favorite without even trying. She soaks up affection like sunlight. If you stop petting her, she will gently nudge you as if to say, “I’m still here.” She comes to her name in the pasture. Follows you like a puppy dog. Stands sweet as can be for the farrier. Does not mind the vet one bit. Gets along well with the others. No drama. No fuss. Just kindness.
She still loads in the trailer with a little spark in her step, like maybe this haul will be to somewhere good. Somewhere permanent.
Here is the truth.
She does not have to leave. She can stay here for the rest of her days, safe and cared for. We will be very picky about where she goes. Marg has already given enough of herself to the world.
We are only asking for a small rehoming fee, simply to ensure she is valued and committed to. There will also be an adoption contract in place to make sure she goes exactly where she belongs and is protected for the rest of her life.
Our priority is not selling her. Our priority is loving her well. Whether that is here, or in a home where she will be cherished every single day.
Marg deserved better than being left behind.
Now she deserves a soft landing. A quiet pasture. A hand that never lets go.
