I knew almost nothing about Nonette, but my gut told me she was special. Even if she hadn’t been, her circumstances would still have bothered me.
Every morning, when I walked down to my pristine barn to feed the horses and clean their stalls, I would look at them in their freedom. Then I’d think about Nonette stuck in her stall, 24/7, except for a spell on the horse walker every morning—while losing shoes. She would go lame very soon if something weren’t done about her feet.
I hated to think of that unnecessary fungus known as rain rot creeping over her body simply because no one could be bothered to take a brush through her coat.
Nonette’s situation ate at me non-stop. If I couldn’t take her, I had to find someone who would. I tried the local rescue organizations, but they didn’t pay
