In a quiet pasture, in the final minutes of May 2, 2009, JB was born.  The little donkey foal was white, like his mother.  She licked him dry and severed his umbilical cord . . . but before JB could nurse, his mother was shot and killed.

The multiple gunshots woke the neighbors, who ran out to find a white truck turning around in their driveway.  They noted which way the truck went, and called the Sheriff.  It was only then that they found JB standing next to his dead mother, his legs covered in her blood.

JB’s owners were called, and the deputies came.  JB was taken to an empty stall up the hill; no one wanted him there while the deputies did their investigation and his mother was buried.  The little foal’s owners bottle-fed him with goat’s milk through the rest of the night, until he could be turned over to Panhandle Equine Rescue.  The rescue group could provide the critical care and hourly feedings that he would long need— care that would be too taxing for his owners to take on.

The PER ladies took the little foal on a long, bumpy ride to the vet . . . without his mother’s colostrum, his chance of survival would be slim.  The vet had a special serum colostrum, which would be administered to JB intravenously; JB would have to be anesthetized for two hours for the procedure.

He woke up in the truck again, headed to a foster home.  His new living area was nothing like the one he was taken from . . . this was a hallway in a home, with a hospital mattress and many blankets on the floor.  The PER lady, who he’d soon come to know as his Mom, fed him from a baby bottle and slept with him on the bed.  She rubbed and caressed him often that first night, and told him softly that everything would be all right.

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