Once again I’m in trouble for opening my big fat mouth, or rather, letting my nimble fingers do the talking for me. A good friend had shared this post from FB. I am NOT going to link. There are so many problems in so many ways. First, I think it is highly illegal for the state of NM. Second, it is abusive and manipulative. From what I can tell, the woman who wrote it is a horse trader. Either the pony belongs to her son, and she is pulling the heart strings, or the family planned to sell it all along, like she did another. New Mexico ranchers are infamous for having no insurance, not workman’s comp, and expect anyone injured on their property to take care of themselves. They do not step up to help their injured employees. There is a high instance of alchol abuse. Traditional ranch kids are not allowed to have normal lives. Their lives must be those of sacrifice, for the good of a failing enterprise, poorly run. The only successful ranches I encountered in New Mexico were sheep. No one in their right mind raises cattle there – yet they do. Their existence is marginal. It is a hard, bitter life, sung to the tune of a country music song about infidelity, drinking, and cheating.
“...🍀 All slots have been filled, a winner was selected an received by NAME DELETED ! He graciously gave Johnny Ringo back to Jace NAME DELETED!! ♥️😍🤠🍀🇺🇸
All tho the drawing is complete, donations are still greatly appreciate! Thank you everyone 🙏🏼♥️🙌🏽
♥️ With a very heavy heart 7yr old Jace Wild is willing to donate his pony Johnny Ringo, in order to generate money for medical expenses for his Grammy, NAME DELETED who had a stroke February 24th 2018. She was in ICU up until March 1st and is now in rehab till further notice. She was airlifted from XXXXX to Albuquerque, that alone is going to be a pretty penny.
💥🌵Johnny Ringo 🌵💥
9yr old Ranch Pony, perfect for a blow An go cowboy/cowgirl. He can cover some country, make the all day drags an outside circles needed in the ranching industry for our little cowpokes! He is super good looking to boot!! Gentle, sound, and good hard feet.
🍀 There will be 200 slots sold at $25 each with a random draw out of a hat by Mr. Jace NAME DELETED When ALL the slots are filled we will draw an announce the WINNER!!
Please let me know what numbers you would like! Good luck to all 😍
💰 PayPal is the easiest for me, at EMAIL DELETED send to a friend so we don’t get the fees! 😊
🤠😇 If by chance your NOT interested in Johnny Ringo but wish to donate as well, it would be a huge blessing!
Thank you everyone for your support! 🙏🏼…“
I made the mistake of saying this was abusive. No parent in their right mind would force a seven year old little boy to sell a beloved pet. The child is into rodeo and appears to be winning various awards. If his beloved pet is sold, he must sacrifice his wishes and dreams – for a grandparent – for five thousand bucks. All they needed to do was set up a Go Fund Me page and avoid hurting him.
A seven year old child does not process things the way an adult does. Basically the mother is putting the grandmother’s recovery on the shoulders of a small little boy. He’s a cute, red headed kid. He’s adorable. The mother is forcing him to give away his treasure, in order to make sure his grandmother’s bills are paid.
I said as much, and was called to task by someone who grew up in the same culture. Pets were there to be butchered. Favorite animals were to be given away, because they cost money. An animal raised in 4-H would be sold and butchered. She thought it was an excellent way of growing up, superior, because they were better than those of us who were sheltered. They were to work as hard as a ranch hand. That’s how, she said, beef gets put on the table of the rest of us.
My grandfather had several thousand head of cattle at any time. He had the largest independent dairy in Florida for many decades. He was on state commissions and considered a ‘mover & shaker’ in the state. If he wanted something, Ed Froehlich did not go to the governor of the state, the governor of the state would come to him.
He would not allow his daughters nor grandchildren to work in the dairy. We were not allowed to go near it. He ran it like a business, not taking free grazing from the Feds. He did not try to raise animals in a land where only a fool would raise that kind of animal. In other words – he made money.
Our animals were our own. Once upon a time, there was a very unfortunate and evil ‘pet’ turkey named Hitler. The family celebrated when he ended up as Thanksgiving dinner. He butchered my rabbits. I was about four at the time. I watched. The fur trimmed adorable coats for my sister and I – for several years. My grandmother and mother were furious with him. As far as my grandfather selling a pet – my uncle had Champ from the day he was born until the day he died – of extreme old age. The whooping cranes my grandmother hatched were set free. The alligators my uncle caught were sometimes set free. The others went into one of his pens, to become very dangerous ‘pets’. The only animal I remember them ever getting rid of was a large Boxer who jumped me. I was maybe four at the time. The dog was gone the following day. Grandy did buy Uncle Edwin a billy goat. A few days later he was required to pay the seller double – to take him off his hands! But – he did not kill the goat.
His daughters were not required to work like and with his farm hands. They were entirely different social classes. Grandy may have started with nothing but six borrowed milk cows, but he created a small empire. He did not work alongside his farm hands. He was the boss. My uncle would, but that was a different story. To my grandfather, there was nothing virtuous about forcing his daughters to degrade themselves by treating them no different from his dairy help. He did not destroy our animals. Childhood was to be treasured. If anything, we were all just a little too spoiled. His daughters were not allowed to work. They were to be Palm Beach socialites. My mother’s wedding reception was catered by the same person who did one for Gloria Vanderbilt just a few weeks previous.
I was once told there was a pecking order for meals on a ranch, especially during round-up. The ranch hands were to be fed first. They had first choice of everything. They were waited on hand and foot so they could get back to work. Other adults were then fed. Whatever was left over went to the kids. I don’t mind admitting I was shocked. In my family, children always came first. With one or two exceptions, the dairy hands were never allowed inside my grandmother’s home. Meals were not provided for them. My grandmother and her daughters were never to wait on the employees.
Over the years I’ve met some very nice ranchers, very successful business people. Their children were not treated like dirt. From what I can tell, they were never abused. I suspect much of this is not about ranch culture but social class. On my grandfather’s dairy, the hired help was investigated, frequently to make sure they were not abusing their children. When alcohol was abused, they were given an opportunity to clean up their act. If not, they were kicked off the farm. During my 19 years of living in New Mexico, I heard some horror stories of abuse.
I was told that growing up hard was not abuse. It made tough adults. Funny about that, growing up hard – in New Mexico, has contributed to one of the highest records of child abuse in the nation. People who grew up hard have a tendency to turn their back on abuse. I asked the woman why she was so defensive.
She was insulting.
In other words – there had been abuse.
This little boy is being emotionally abused. I also suspect his mother was perpetrating a scam. If we were to look, six months from now, my bet is she is going to be selling that same pony, one the ‘winner’ of what ever fundraising scam she was using, gave the pony back to the little kid.
Her eyes aren’t good.