The vet said she was too weak to stand and might not survive the night

The vet said she was too weak to stand and might not survive the night. But the deputy refused to let her give up alone…

Deputy Erin Gibbs is the county’s sole animal cruelty investigator. She’d been building a case against this remote property for months, fueled by anonymous tips about “sick horses.”
But the owner was hostile, and the property was set too far back from the road to get the evidence she needed for a warrant.

This morning, a call came in from a frantic neighbor. “One is down!” the woman cried. “It’s been down in the mud all night. It’s trying to get up, but it can’t.”
That was all Erin needed. She got the emergency warrant and was there in 20 minutes.

The stench hit her before she even saw her. In a back pen, half-submerged in freezing mud and filth, was this mare.
She was a skeleton, her ribs stark against her hide, her face covered in raw, infected sores. She was alive, but just barely.
Her breathing was a shallow, weak rasp.

Erin’s training kicked in. She immediately called the county’s large-animal vet. She described the mare’s condition—the emaciation, the unresponsiveness, the labored breathing.
The vet’s voice was grim. “Erin,” he said, “from what you’re describing, she’s in critical condition. Hypothermic and in shock. I’m on my way with the sling and fluids, but you need to keep her fighting. We have to get her stable *now*.”

Erin hung up, her heart pounding. This beautiful animal had been failed by everyone, but she wouldn’t be the last. She wasn’t going to let this mare give up.
She didn’t care about her uniform. She waded through the filth and slid to the ground, gently lifting the mare’s heavy head into her lap.
The horse let out a long, slow sigh, her body finally relaxing against the deputy.
Erin stroked her face, her own tears tracing paths in the dirt on her cheeks.

“Hey, girl,” she whispered, her voice thick. “It’s all right. You’re okay. I know, I know. Just lean on me. I’ve got you. We’re going to get you out of here, I promise. You’re not alone anymore, all right? Just keep breathing for me.”
She just sat there, shielding her head from the filth, making sure that as this mare fought for her life, she knew she wasn’t alone. She was safe, and for the first time in a long, long time, she was loved.