Bleakley - Joey: how a blind rescue horse helped others learn to see

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Joey: How a Blind Rescue Horse Helped Others Learn to See

Copyright 2018 by Jennifer Marshall Bleakley. All rights reserved.

Cover photograph of wooden planks copyright by Nikilev/Shutterstock. All rights reserved.

Cover photograph of horse copyright by Javier Pardina/Stocksy.com. All rights reserved.

Cover and interior photograph of horseshoe copyright by Emilio100/Shutterstock. All rights reserved.

All interior photographs are the property of their respective copyright holders, and used with permission. Painting Joey and Speckles with Joey by Jen Shepard/Hope Reins; Joey close-up and Speckles eating by Heidi Grable; girl on Joey by Cindee Hakim; horses and author by Rebecca Mill; frames by Picsfive/Shutterstock. All rights reserved.

Designed by Julie Chen

Edited by Bonne Steffen

Published in association with the literary agency of The Blythe Daniel Agency, P.O. Box 64197, Colorado Springs, CO 80962-4197.

Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Bleakley, Jennifer Marshall, author. | Joey (Horse)

Title: Joey : how a blind rescue horse helped others learn to see / Jennifer Marshall Bleakley.

Description: Carol Stream, Illinois : Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., 2018.

Identifiers: LCCN 2017053981| ISBN 9781496421746 (hc) | ISBN 9781496421753 (sc)

Subjects: LCSH: AnimalsReligious aspectsChristianity.

Classification: LCC BT746 .B65 2018 | DDC 267/.13dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017053981

Build: 2018-04-06 08:33:45 EPUB 3.0

I dedicate this book to my parents, Bill and Julie Marshall, who believed that I could do this long before I ever did.

And to anyone who feels trapped in darkness, hopelessness, or pain, I pray that through this story you will see a glimmer of light and the fingerprints of hope.

J OEYS TIME AT H OPE R EINS is presented as accurately as possible, based on interviews and memories of those involved with his rescue, care, and training. Some names and identifying details of people have been changed out of respect for their privacy or are composites of several different individuals experiences. A few events and timelines have been combined and compressed for brevity, with certain liberties taken to tell a more cohesive story. As I write this, a number of the horses that were part of Joeys story still reside at Hope Reins.

Just ask the animals, and they will teach you.

Ask the birds of the sky, and they will tell you.

Speak to the earth, and it will instruct you.

JOB 12:7-8

T HE RAIN CAME DOWN in sheets as Penny turned onto the long gravel drive she shared with a neighboring horse farm. After two months away from her Virginia home while she cared for her dying mother in Florida, the sprawling green pasture was a welcome sight. As she made her way up the drive, a group of horses came into view.

Thats odd, she thought. What are they doing outside in such a terrible storm? Slowing down ever so slightly, she leaned forward, straining to see through the rain. Suddenly, her eyes widened.

Oh my goodness! she gasped. Slamming on the brakes, she quickly turned her pickup around and drove straight up the farms private drive, blatantly ignoring the No Trespassing sign.

Throwing open the metal gate, she trudged through the mud and muck toward the herd of horses. When she got within a few yards of them, she stopped dead in her tracks. The horses were completely emaciated, some barely able to stand. Next to them, beneath an ancient oak, two horses lay motionless, their manes matted with mud, their midsections grotesquely inverted. Her stomach churned.

What happened here?

Taking shelter under the tree, she pulled out her phone and dialed 9-1-1.

9-1-1, whats your emergency?

Yes, Im calling from the Nash farm off US 60 in Powhatan County, Penny began, her voice shaking. There are several badly emaciated horses out in the field, and some of them appear to be dead.

How many dead horses are there? the operator asked matter-of-factly.

At least two, she replied, glancing around the pasture, her eyes settling on the stables off in the distance.

Okay, maam, someone from the sheriffs department and animal control will be there shortly.

After thanking the dispatcher, Penny tucked her phone into her coat pocket and headed toward the stables. Please, God, dont let there be any more like these in there, she prayed.

Cold rain pelted her face as she forced her legs to carry her toward the open-air stalls at the top of a gentle hill. Off to the side stood a ranch-style house. One of the shutters hung askew, and the lower portion of a window had been boarded up.

She couldnt remember the last time she had seen the ownera man who made a hobby of collecting horses he thought he could sell at a higher price.

Did he just get tired of it and take off? Her mind wandered back to the dead and dying animals in the pasture. How could anyone do that?

Wrapping her raincoat tightly around her, she quickened her pace. A fire burned in her stomach. Never had she felt so angry. As she neared the stables, she saw that empty feedboxes dotted the area and the November grass was almost bare. When was the last time these poor animals were fed?

When she finally reached the four wooden stalls, she took a deep breath and willed herself to look inside. All of them were empty. Thank God, she breathed. Then, just as she was about to turn and leave, she saw a hoof sticking out from behind the end stall.

No, no, no, no, no... she begged as she ran to the fallen horse.

She dropped to her knees, mud and manure seeping into her jeans. Her heart caught in her throat. She recognized the familiar short blond tail of the horse she had loved to visit through the adjoining fence. His sweet personality reminded her of a horse she had ridden as a child. Tears welling in her eyes, she gingerly touched the horses side. Each rib protruded beneath the skin. She quickly jerked her hand away. The rain fell harder now, and muddy streaks flowed down the animals body, revealing glimpses of the white-and-black polka-dotted coat hidden beneath the crusted-on mud and filth.