I’ve always loved horses, but the topic of equine rescue was a real eye-opener for me. Frankly I was immersed in the glamorous world of shows, polo matches and competitive racing and oblivious to the grisly fate suffered by far too many horses whose owners abdicate responsibility for them. I soon found that the Internet was awash with sad tales and dismal statistics. My fantasies about cherished creatures like Trigger, Silver and Buttermilk clashed markedly with reality. With the help of my best friend Babette Croy, I decided to do something about that.
My name is Perri Morgan. I lead a relatively dull existence in Grand Falls, Virginia, crafting custom leashes, collars, bridles and saddles for dogs and horses. “Rescues” touch a special place in my heart since after my parents’ death, I became the product of the foster care system. I know all too well what it means to long for acceptance and a forever home. In fact, my modest spread boasts two retired military dogs, one entitled feline and an ornery pygmy goat, all of whom were discarded and subsequently re-homed with me.
My community is an affluent one filled with Macmansions, lavish landscaping, and well-intentioned neighbors leading busy lives. Many of them enjoy polo, horse and dog shows and competitive riding. Some like Babette also have a big heart and genuinely care about less fortunate creatures. My pal is passionate. In fact, one might call Babette a social justice warrior willing to put herself and her pocketbook on the line to help animals.
Unfortunately, even good intentions can clash when property values and profits collide. Our town council suddenly proposed to rezone land and evict the Cavalry Farms Rescue facility. Tempers flared, expletives flew, and our normally tranquil community experienced a galloping case of NIMBY (not in my back yard) syndrome. With Babette leading the charge, several of us mobilized and formed a protest group, appropriately dubbed NEIGH. Nothing militant, just a band of concerned citizens with something to say. Our ace in the hole was the public scrutiny provided by my romantic partner investigative hottie, Wing Pruett. Grand Falls prided itself on a liberal reputation and shunned any bad publicity. I was cautiously optimistic about our chances until disaster stuck: I came face to face with the bloodied corpse of Babette’s assistant, draped across her employer’s bed! Continue reading “Horsing Around Can Be Fun! by Arlene Kay”