The day after J and I returned to Colorado from Texas, we met a friend and her friend for lunch at La Loma. Our friend, L, is the mother of CJ, T's best friend. We've known each other for several years, done dinner and had camping weekends with our families. She is pretty wonderful and it's been a joy to get to know her and her husband, JJ. She has an Arabian gelding who is 19 years old and a close cousin to Thee Ashke. They have many of the same breeding lines, since they are both straight Egyptian. He is also a grey and she was excited and astounded when I was given him at Christmas. We spent a couple of hours one night comparing their pedigrees and it seemed appropriate that they were related.
When we were in Texas, I texted her the pictures of Ashke, and her response was, "Oh no, that's not what we were hoping for." My feelings exactly. The day after we got back from Texas, we met with L and her friend Jen for lunch. The only topic of discussion at lunch was Ashke. We talked about whether or not he was strong enough to ship, whether he was able to be rehabbed, what kind of long term effects the malnutrition would have on him, and what we could do to safely move him. I was very pessimistic. I just wasn't sure I wanted to commit to a horse that looked the way he did.
After lunch we went back to Jen's house to use the bathroom, still talking about Ashke. L suggested I move him to a new place in Texas until he was stronger. I told her I wasn't able to do that financially, that I wasn't willing to invest the money into a horse that was two states away. I was willing to take on the role of rescuer, but only if he could be moved to Colorado. She replied that sometimes we are given what we need not what we want, that it was fate that I was given Ashke and that I was the only one who could rescue him. I muttered something along the lines of I didn't want a horse that was as broken as he was. Both L and J agreed that I was very good at fixing broken things. I agreed that I was willing to send money to Steve for extra food between now and when we could go get him, but that was all I willing to do. I looked at L and said, "If you will help me move him North, instead of trying to ship him, than I will bring him home." L said she would help me do that. And she would have JJ drive so we could talk or play cards or hang out.
The conversation that day further reinforced the concept that I was Ashke's last hope and that fate had thrown him in my path. I felt humbled by the offer from my friend to help me rescue him. I felt responsible for his future happiness and health. I gave in that day and decided that sometimes things happen for a reason. And I began planning another road trip to Amarillo, this time riding in the back seat of a double cab Ford F-350 with a three horse slant load trailer flying behind us.