I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart
The quote in the title of this post is the last line of Anne Frank’s diary. I think I first read that book when I was in the third or fourth grade, and even then, the irony of the line struck me, given why she had been in hiding in the first place and why that was her last entry.
I write this not to depress all of you, but because of two things that happened last week that were both pretty depressing/sad, but that, because of the goodness of people, turned out to be… well, not good things, but they had as good an outcome as things could be.
Both involve the horse program at Moose’s barn, Horses Hope & Healing, which is why I’m posting this on Tuesday Mooseday.
The first one actually happened second, but I’m listing it first just because. Last Wednesday, one of the horses across the barn aisle from Moose died suddenly. He had a seizure disorder (which they’d known about) and had a seizure in the middle of the night, when no one was around to administer treatment. The vet said apparently a lot of horses with this disorder have been seizing more lately, maybe due to the weather or something.
So that’s the sad part. The neat part was on Wednesday afternoon. I didn’t get to go to this, because I was stuck in jury duty, but they held a balloon release at the barn in his memory. I thought that was a really neat and touching thing to do for a horse, and I really wish I could have been there.
Besides, maybe then I could have gotten my crying out of the way at that, rather than when I walked into the barn aisle the next morning and saw all the horse heads hanging over the stall doors… except for his. Moose is always nice about letting me cry into his neck, at least. :-)
(Pictures are courtesy of Selina and Tiffany.)
The other thing that happened this past week is sad, depressing, and incredibly enraging. On Sunday the 20th, one of the kids in the program (and one of the charter members of Moose’s fan club) was hit by a car and had his leg broken in six places. The driver got out, said he was going to go get his wallet, and then DROVE OFF AND LEFT HIM THERE AND NEVER CAME BACK.
There’s a special place in hell for people who do stuff like that.
I’ve actually posted a couple of pictures of him (let’s call him V) before.
I don’t know how long V. is in the hospital for — he had to have surgery and have pins and a plate put in to stabilize the leg.
And then something else happened. Last Thursday I went to the barn before going into work, and on my way to get Moose, I saw a horse I didn’t recognize — a small, cute, black and white paint miniature horse.
I have a soft spot for minis (who doesn’t for something that little and cute?) so a bit later, I asked another one of the women at the barn whose he was, and she replied, “Oh, you didn’t hear about that?” Then she dragged me over to a horse trailer parked nearby and opened up the back to show me a little miniature cart.
Apparently someone donated the mini horse and cart, and when V. is well enough to be able to come back out to the barn, but not yet able to ride, he can drive the mini horse and cart around.
When she told me that, I teared up for the second time that day. I’d already cried about Moose’s barnmate dying (and, I’ll admit, thinking of the eventuality of having to one day say goodbye to Moose) and when I heard about V. having a way to get around and still participate in the horse program even before he can ride again… well, I’m choked up again just writing this. So yeah.
This makes me think about that Forbes study about Sacramento being the fifth most miserable city in America. You know, life is what you make of it. There’s a lot of lemonade to be made out there, folks. Bad, sad things are going to happen because that’s just how life goes (whether it’s right or not.)
But it’s things like this, as well as the huge outpouring of support for the stray dog I took the pictures of last month, that make me realize just how wonderful people can be, here in Sacramento and elsewhere.
Thanks, Anne Frank, for summing it up more eloquently than I ever could hope to.