The Auction: the story of Bo and Dobbin

written by Jaime Taft

I planned on getting to the auction in enough time to check out the at risk horses, but one wrong turn that led me 30 minutes in the wrong direction later, I barely had enough time to park the truck and trailer and get into the building.

My plan was to meet Bonnie and scope out potential “at risk” horses in the sale pens prior to the start of the auction, but as it was I barely had time to find Bonnie, who registered us, and Chelsea, who had come along to watch and give support. With me also was Jacqueline, a high school student who was doing some volunteer work with us as part of her senior project. Someday, Jacqueline hopes to open a Thoroughbred rescue and rehabilitation program.

We quickly took our seats just as they started bringing the first horse onto the auction floor. The registered horses were brought in first, and most of the horses in this group were groomed, broke, and went for good prices, well above $1000.

We scanned the auction floor for the “kill buyers”, whom we recognized either based on their physical description or by where they were standing, which was off to the side but on the auction floor. Thankfully, none of them seemed to be paying attention to the horses in the ring.

While we kept an eye on the horses coming in, Bonnie reviewed her “at risk” list with me, which was at least 20 horses long. Most of them were unpapered and would not be in this group, but we stayed and watched as a mare and foal were brought through that were in poor condition – the mare with a scraggly coat, knots in her mane, and overgrown hooves – the foal, who was only a month or two old, was mangy and wormy-looking. They wore separate tags, meaning the seller would sell them separately – shocking given the age of the foal. Still, the kill buyers did not look up and the two were sold together to what we hope was a good home.

Deciding that the registered horses seemed safe from the kill buyers, Bonnie took me back to show me the horses about whom she was most concerned. We saw old horses, well into their twenties with swaybacks and ribs showing, standing alone in their pens wearing tack. More mares and young foals. Some had cards on their pens with a name and a little information about them, or an owner standing in front of the pen anxious for an opportunity to tell you all the wonderful things about their horse, others had not even a name, just an auction tag glued to their tails.

We saw merely half of Bonnie’s list before we noticed that one of the horses about to go in the ring was one on our list, so we hurried back out to the stands.

Our plan that day was simple – to rescue one, maybe two, horses from the hands of the killers. We had $300 with us from the “Odie fund": funded by donations from a friend of SAFE's in memory of Odie, a rescued horse whose body was so ravaged from the poor care he had received prior to his rescue that he could no longer stay comfortable; he had been recently laid to rest. We intended to use this fund for whatever we decided to help, as a tribute to Odie.

Before we arrived, we had strategized on how to make our purchases, and which horses to bid on. We were only interested in bidding against kill buyers – therefore if someone from the audience placed a bid, we planned to immediately drop out of the bidding. Certainly, it made the most fiscal sense for our rescue to select a horse that we could place easily and quickly – not too old, sound, broke to ride - and that was our goal for the day.

Of course, the reality of the experience was not that simple, and our plans quickly flew out the window.

Back in the stands, they were still working their way through the registered horses. Mostly, these were nice Quarter Horses and Paints. A few Thoroughbreds came through, and several miniatures, which were shown ridden by the owner’s children. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of lesson these children were learning by helping their parents to unload their horses in such a callous way. Certainly, not one in which the horse is a respected part of the family…but I digress.

One nice 6 year old Thoroughbred gelding came in, shown by the owner who demonstrated how bombproof the horse was by mounting the horse bareback in the ring with only a halter. He stated he had to sell him because he was moving, but later was seen bidding on horses in the auction.

The auctioneer finished with the registered horses and began showing the grade horses, bringing in the riding horses first; we were lulled into a false sense of security, because still the two kill buyers did not bid, nor did they appear to be paying much attention. Chelsea got up the nerve to ask an older gentleman who seemed to be “in the know”, about why they weren’t bidding. He said “they weren’t buying slaughter horses today”.

So we relaxed a bit on our diligent watch of the two men in the ring, and almost missed it when suddenly one of them raised his number almost imperceptibly and took the bid for $100 on swaybacked chestnut gelding in the ring, being ridden bareback by the auction rider, who first stated the horse was a mare, then leaned down and looked under and pronounced “her” a gelding. I turned to Chelsea and Bonnie and asked desperately “Did he just bid???”. We frantically tried to decide what to do as the auctioneer made his second call, and then I made a split second decision and raised my number. Before I even knew what had happened, SAFE had made its first auction purchase of the day for $120, and none of us were even sure what it was we had purchased.

But there was no time to go back and see, as the kill buyers had suddenly woken up and started bidding, and it required concentration by all four of us to watch them to detect their almost imperceptible bids. We bid on another horse, but quickly dropped out when another person from the audience entered the bidding. We watched in frustration as the kill buyers took the bid and the horses were led out before anyone had a chance to do anything – clearly, the auctionhouses have an arrangement with the kill buyers – which includes making it very difficult to determine when they are bidding or have won the bid on a horse – in some cases not even announcing it when the killers got the bid.

A mangy, thin bay gelding was led into the ring. There was no information on him, but Bonnie had his number on her list, and Chelsea recognized him immediately as one she had been particularly drawn to and concerned about when she had walked the corrals earlier. There was no time for me to even assess any glaring health or conformation problems, as almost immediately the bidding started at $100 and the kill buyer jumped in. Ready this time and determined not to let this one get away, I raised my number. The kill buyer bid again, then I did, and we got the bid, at $150, for this poor bay horse that I never even got a clear look at when he was in the ring.

Although we were out of trailer space and had used up the majority of our Odie fund on these two horses, we forced ourselves to stay and watch as the remaining horses went through. Most did not go to the killers that day, thankfully, but probably about 15 or so that we saw did, and a few still haunt me to this day.

Finally, it was over, and we made our way to the corrals to see our purchases. We found the bay first as Chelsea led us straight to him. He stood near the back of the pen, his rear facing us, his head hung low. He seemed not to hear us as we made soothing noises and tried to coax him to come our way. Chelsea opened the gate and I followed her in, and we petted him as we looked him over. He was very thin, his coat was poor and his eyes dull. He seemed to not even notice the attention we gave him.

Leaving Chelsea to halter him, I went over to the corral with our other horse in it, where Bonnie stood looking him over.
In the far back of the corral stood an extremely swaybacked, thin chestnut gelding. Despite his low back, he was wearing fairly recently applied shoes on top of very long toes and had a shiny, nicely groomed coat. He eyed us warily and unenthusiastically from his pen, and made no move to come to meet us, so we traipsed to the back of the pen to introduce ourselves. He sniffed us but otherwise seemed disinterested in our presence, but not in an unfriendly manner.

I ran back to move the trailer closer and to grab some leadlines, and then Bonnie led the chestnut and I led the bay gelding out of their pens and outside to my waiting trailer. Once out of his pen, the bay gelding suddenly perked up, and was almost leading me across the parking lot, so happy he was to be leaving the auction. As soon as he started walking the sound of a loose shoe was obvious, and we looked down to see 4 overgrown, chipped and cracked hooves, one with a shoe still hanging on by a single nail. The chestnut moved stiffly but willingly, although he was clearly off in front. We arrived at the trailer, fed them several treats and snapped some photos. Clearly, these two geldings were not young, did not appear sound, and although they were almost surely broke they were likely only placeable as companion animals. I don’t think it crossed our minds that we had not purchased as planned, we were already smitten with these two gentle geldings.

When I arrived home with the geldings it was already dark, so there was nothing more to be done than to give them some food, water, and settle them in their new paddock – which was separate from my other horses in case they had been exposed to any illnesses at the auction.

The next day I was on the phone making arrangements for farrier and vet care, taking photos, brushing them down and combing the tangles from their manes and tails. We gave Chelsea the honor of naming the bay gelding, as he had so captured her heart. She named him “Bonne Chance”, which means “Good Luck”, as this horse certainly had some luck on his side at the auction. For short, she named him “Bo”.

The chestnut gelding Bonnie named “Dobbin.” Odie, the horse whose story prompted the donations that funded these two geldings’ purchase, was owned by the Dobbin family, and as another horse had already been named Odie in his honor, we thought Dobbin to be a fitting name.

By the next day, it was clear that something was not quite right with Bo in his hind end. He would often stand with his right hind leg held off to the side in an unusual manner. When the farrier arrived the next day to take care of his poor feet and remove the remaining shoe, it was obvious he was having trouble standing on that leg.

Over the days that followed while I waited for the appointment that had been set for the two of them to see our rescue vet, Dr. Hannah Evergreen, I grew increasingly concerned about Bo. Dobbin too, was somewhat lame, and the cause of his lameness was obvious by the clear signs of ringbone in both front feet, and surely his overly long toes weren’t helping the situation, making it so he was walking on the horsey equivalent of high heels.

Unlike Dobbin, who got around quite well and began to show more interest in interacting with us, Bo continued to appear depressed, lethargic, and would walk away when people approached. His hind end “weirdness” progressed to the point that he would pivot in circles around the leg, leaving drag marks on the ground.

When Dr. Hannah arrived to evaluate him, she was immediately concerned. There was no heat, swelling, or obvious cause of the injury, which was no doubt quite old. Dr. Hannah felt it was likely an old stifle fracture or torn ligament. Most telling and concerning however was his heart rate, which was 80 when a normal heart rate for a horse is 40. This told Dr. Hannah what Bo couldn’t – that he was in pain, and he was suffering.

We spent a few minutes discussing options, but for a horse his age (mid 20s, at least), and in this poor of shape, Dr. Hannah felt that the kindest solution was probably euthanasia. She advised we try giving him some bute for a few days, to see if that helped him much, but did not seem optimistic. We both knew that was only allowing him some pain-free days while arrangements were made and goodbyes were said.

Three days later, during which he was kept on a high dose of bute which only moderately eased his symptoms, I loaded Bo into the trailer hauled him to Pilchuck Veterinary Hospital, along with Dobbin for company and to ease any anxiety Bo might have about leaving his friend behind. Our volunteer Allison and I brought him his mash and treats, but he only had interest in grass as we waited for the vet to ready the medications. Bo was given a tranquilizer to keep him calm, and he willingly walked with us to the back pasture, near where I had laid Ernie and Mariah to rest in 2005. He went down easily, mid-chew of a mouthful of lush grass, as the tears slid down our cheeks.

This is how it goes with rescue. Sometimes you rescue horses from bad situations, make them better, and place them into wonderful new homes. Other times you rescue them only to free them from the damage and the pain that was done long before by letting them go. While it hurts, and it is easy to get frustrated and feel that we weren’t able to save Bo and the others like him, we only have to think about what would have happened if we hadn’t been there that day.

Bo, with his bad leg, would have been loaded into a crowded trailer and hauled for hours to a quarantine area, where he would have suffered for 30 more days before being loaded again into a overcrowded double decker semi, this time hauled for days without food or water. In his condition, he likely would have fallen in the trailer, and been trampled by the other horses. And if he survived the trip, and was able to stand on the other side, he would have had to endure the even more horrifying slaughter process. Therefore I take comfort in the fact that Bo never had to face that fate, and I like to think that he is running pain-free somewhere, if only in our hearts.

Dobbin, while never going to be suitable for anything other than slow walks on the trail, is a sweet and tractable older gentleman who is currently enjoying lush pastures and attention from several kids in his foster home in Lake Stevens. Some days he moves soundly, other days he is a bit sore. He is anxiously awaiting his forever home. Click here to learn more about how you can make Dobbin a part of your family.