A second chance for Gitana

A Second Chance for Gitana

Over time, I have seen countless horses in need of help—neglected, malnourished, and often abandoned. In Spain, this neglect isn’t always intentional. Many people simply lack the resources to care for their animals. The rising costs of hay and veterinary care can make proper maintenance impossible. For many, a horse must “earn its keep,” and when it no longer can, its future becomes uncertain.

It was during our village’s annual fira, the biggest event of the year, that I met her. The fira is an agricultural market, bustling with energy. Amid stalls selling farm equipment, T-shirts, and leather bags, animals were also being sold—chickens, rabbits, dogs, and larger livestock like donkeys, mules, and horses. Among the well-groomed and well-fed animals, there were always a few that broke your heart.

That’s where I first saw her. A medium-sized bay pony, standing quietly amidst the chaos. Her eyes were dull, her ribs sharply visible, and her hooves in dire condition. She was heartbreakingly thin. When I reached out to stroke her and spoke softly to her, I felt an overwhelming wave of emotion. It was as if her pain seeped into me, as if she was silently crying for help.

My niece overheard a conversation that shattered me: if she didn’t sell, she might end up at the slaughterhouse.

I had to know more. Asking around, I learned she was supposedly 19 years old and still rideable. But as I looked at her frail body, I doubted it. Days passed, and still, no one bought her. My heart ached for her, and I couldn’t get her out of my mind.

Eventually, I gained access to her passport. Scrawled in the document was her birth year: 2005. But as I studied it closer, I noticed faint markings that suggested her real birth year was 1999. She wasn’t 19—she was 26.

Her hooves were neglected, her eyes inflamed, and her body so emaciated that every rib was visible. How could a pony who had spent her life serving humans be left to such a fate? It was unthinkable. I couldn’t bear the thought of her ending her days this way.

Desperately, I reached out to everyone I knew, hoping someone could take her in. But everyone in my circle already had one or more rescues, and there simply wasn’t room for her anywhere.

Heartbroken, I turned to my husband, tears streaming down my face as I told him her story. He listened, understanding my anguish, but this was not an easy decision. Another animal to feed, more medical bills to consider—it was a lot to take on.

But a few days later, he said yes. And just like that, Gitana came home.

From the moment she arrived, I could feel her gratitude. Despite her fragile state, there was a spark of life in her, a quiet resilience. Each day, she raises her head to greet me, gently pressing her muzzle to my cheek. It feels like her way of saying, Thank you. And every time she does, my heart warms.

Now, Gitana is living the retirement she deserves. She no longer has to work or worry. Her days are filled with care, safety, and love. I wish I could do this for every horse—give back to these magnificent creatures who have given so much to humans, enduring both work and neglect without complaint.

My sister-in-law and I have long dreamed of starting a rescue together. But we’ve learned it’s no easy feat. Building something like this requires significant resources—land, shelters, feed, veterinary care. Subsidies are almost nonexistent.

Still, Gitana is just the beginning. Saving her has shown me what’s possible, and I hope this will be the start of something bigger. A place where horses like her, forgotten and cast aside, can find sanctuary. A place where they can finally receive the love and dignity they’ve always deserved.