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Jay was our very first rescue, and every day we are motivated by our obligation to give him the life he deserves. Jay may not be a horse, but may in fact be something more: a more evolved, magical being. Standing at 18.2 hands he is magnificent, though when he came to us he was hundreds of pounds underweight, with a skin condition on his legs that was so bad that his legs were completely black from hoof to hock. This was so painful to him that he was terrified to have his legs touched, and lifting his hooves for the farrier was agonizing because it forced him to stretch the skin over his enormous sores.

Due to years of poor nutrition, Jay's immune system has struggled, and while we've been able to stay on top of his leg condition and keep his skin clean, it took us 18 months, countless equine vets, and thousands upon thousands of dollars until we matched with a vet who treated him with the commitment to his care that he deserved. If treated aggressively, consistently, and proactively, he is able to clear most skin flare-ups now, but he is still in grave danger of developing an infection at the smallest nick on his leg. We have spent tens of thousands of dollars on his care, and count ourselves fortunate to be in a position to do that for him, to help him know comfort.

Jay has taught us not only about what we need to seek in a good veterinary relationship, but about patience, forgiveness, and grace. He is solemn, gentle, and has the deepest soul we've ever known. He is at least 25 years old, and we don't know what he's seen in his life, but he loves to stand with his head draped over our shoulders, to listen to Paul Simon, John Prine, and First Aid Kit's version of "Tiger Mountain Peasant Song," and to stretch out in the pasture for a nap while his friends keep watch. Nothing makes his eyes light up like a bale of second cut hay, and though nothing written here can come close to showing the goodness of Jay, we know that everyone who meets him sees it for themselves. 

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