I walked down the aisles, looking into each stall. The smell was horrible. It was an  unbearably hot & humid August morning. A small bay horse was ill; laying down and unresponsive. I stood for along time, watching it’s sides to see if it was breathing. I had almost decided that it was, in fact, dead when I saw a slight movement of breathing. I think I was more disappointed than relieved. If it had been dead, it’s suffering would have been over. I walked on, looking at horse after horse, already saddened by what I was seeing. Most of these animals looked dirty, sick, old, unkempt, scared. I walked further, coming finally to a stall housing a small white horse. Her hips jutted out, her ribs shone through her coat. She seemed to stare at one spot on the back wall. “This horse is starved.” I said aloud to my friend Kim, who had accompanied me to the auction house. “No, Lisa - “, Kim replied from the outer aisle of stalls. “This horse is starved...”