In the six weeks that she was gone, Capri was turned out with other mares and found herself at the bottom of the pecking order. In the horse world, each horse in a group falls into a certain order of hierarchy. The horse at the top controls the hay pile, and the ones who fall lower in the order may not get enough to eat, and will probably get picked on. Unfortunately, that was the case with Capri. She lost a significant amount of weight, which, after two weeks of being back here, she is still trying to put back on. She also had obvious hoof marks on her hindquarters from being kicked by the other mares. She was dirty and dull-looking, with a build-up of loose hair in her coat. The sparkle was gone from her eyes, her head hung low, and her hip bones were showing. When she stepped out of the trailer, I really wasn't sure it was Capri. I honestly had to look at her markings several times to be certain. Where was the proud mustang? The outgoing, the-world-is-my-oyster-and-I-am-the-queen mare? Had she vanished? No. Thankfully, after an hour of grooming, cooing, petting, playing, and feeding her treats, the old Capri was reappearing. There was a glimmer of sparkle in her eyes. She knew she was home with the people who love her, in a comfortable place where she never experienced fear or pain.
I've saved the best news for last. You remember Rick, right? He's my neighbor, my friend, my employer, and the owner of the barn where I am blessed enough to be able to train mustangs. Well, he and his wife love Capri as much as I do, and they were deeply disturbed by the condition she was in when she returned here. They decided that perhaps it would be best if they adopted Capri. So, the check has been written and the paperwork has been mailed, and very soon Rick will have the final adoption papers in hand. How's that for a good deal? I get to keep training Capri, and Rick and his wife get to enjoy her. That's what I call a happy ending. Or is it a happy new beginning?
