07/11/2026
Today’s post about Jack and Louise is a good opportunity to share a few things we’ve said before, and some things we stand for here at LMMR. Maybe it’s also a bit of rant.
Rescues are not punching bags. We already take on the worst of humanity. Please don’t add to it.
Rescues are also not warehouses with unlimited budgets and capacities. This reality sucks, but it’s always true.
Rescues are run by humans, and nothing left to humans will ever be completely perfect and satisfy every opinion. But a rescue who has formally-adopted and public operational policies, constant veterinarian involvement, and one who makes a clearly visible effort to operate ethically is something to be respected, not admonished, in a world that already doesn’t have nearly enough safe places for all the animals in need.
I think where some people struggle to understand and then get angry with us about a euthanasia is the feeling that there MUST be another solution, and there HAS to be a happy ending for every single problem that exists. It’s natural to want to comfort ourselves in this way, because that’s what children’s storybooks and Hollywood movies have reinforced us to believe.
But truthfully, sometimes there are hard calls, bad days, and consequences we didn’t ask for no matter how hard we try often because of someone else’s careless breeding, neglect, abuse, or abandonment.
Neglect is not just a lack of feed or a lack of hoof care. It is also neglect to breed more mules, horses and donkeys into the world and then never bother to teach them the basics of being handled like being haltered, picking up their feet, and how to load into a trailer. When an equine is left to grow up unhandled to the point of being feral and dangerous behaviors like bolting, kicking and biting are reinforced, that’s nearly always a one-way ticket down a very long and hard pipeline full of more displacement, neglect, abuse, and trauma.
They will go from owner to auction to trader to auction to “killpen”, and for the most part, it is a small percentage of private homes and a majority percentage of legitimate rescues who are willing and able to provide placement for these equines to get them out of this vicious and heartbreaking cycle. By the time they reach us, their problems are compounded and the physical and mental rehabilitation is long, expensive, and sometimes unsuccessful.
Jack and Louise were both victims of this type of neglect cycle before LMMR.
The hard truth is they all should’ve been handled and trained where they were born, and we can’t always unwind years of mishandling and trauma. We are one of VERY few sanctuaries who accept unhandled, feral, and problem-behavior mules, like Jack and Louise.
(This is not to say that there aren’t circumstances in which people have tried their very best for a mule, and things just didn’t work out. Whether it’s good intentions but not having enough experience, or a life tragedy, or the death of a family member, there are circumstances in which there is no blame to be had, and rescues exist for all of these reasons too.)
I am strictly talking about the multitudes of people who flat out fail their animals despite the choice they made to bring them into this world without any sort of plan for their futures, over and over again — because at one point in time every single mule walking around in our Refuge today was a brand new baby who could’ve easily been taught anything and everything they needed to know to always be safe, happy, and cared for. Many of them wouldn’t be here.
Whether you agree with a decision our rescue makes to euthanize or not, the fact that cannot be argued is that the day they walk into our rescue, they are never neglected, abused, or abandoned again. We are an end-of-the-line rescue, which means we never transfer unadoptable mules out to another rescue where they might re-enter that terrible pipeline someday. They are also freezebranded and microchipped to be permanently identified as an LMMR mule. They stay here until they’re trained and adopted, and for those who can’t be, they live here for as long as they can remain healthy and safely cooperate with necessary care inside of a chute, like vaccines and hoof trims.
Even if we cannot fully behaviorally rehabilitate every mule, each one is still allotted time in our sanctuary to live with minimum human contact outside of veterinary care and with all the food, friendship, and freedom possible. This only changes when a mule’s health begins to decline, or their behavior poses a liability risk to themselves or our staff and they can’t be safely trained and adopted out.
We’ve all seen the news cycle stories about former rescues that have been formally investigated and shut down, because they either had good intentions but with an anti-euthanasia stance which eventually caused them to become overflowing with animals who weren’t receiving proper care, or the situation was more nefarious and the rescue was intentionally depriving their animals of care for personal monetary gain.
Rescues are not warehouses. We could close our doors tomorrow and only care for the mules we have here to the natural end of their lives (30-40 years), but that would also leave out countless other mules who will never be able to receive our rehabilitation, care, training, sanctuary, and adoption. Every responsible rescue calculates their capacity based off of funding, resources, staff count, time, and room — and when a rescue operates a sanctuary, it consumes a large percentage of each one.
Our sanctuary capacity is 55. Today we are at 53. Our senior special needs capacity is 10. We are at 10.
The point is, criticizing a rescue that practices responsible, proactive euthanasia doesn’t make much sense when the alternative is more suffering for animals.
LBR, that type of anger should be directed at the people who leave animals in such bad condition that a rescue saying yes and/or euthanasia are the only options left for them…
Don’t lose sight of the people behind a mission, too. If a Facebook post about the loss of a mule here upsets you, please consider how it must have felt for our staff (and our veterinarians) who were actually there and have cared for this mule for many years. Even when it is the right decision, it is hard on us every time. Nasty comments are so easy to type and send, but they do real damage to the hearts of those who wear the boots on the ground.
The people who are showing up early to beat the heat and tossing hay, cleaning out stalls, filling up waters, tending to a wound, scrubbing bowls, hauling to vet appointments, coordinating adoptions, and so much more every single day.
Just this morning as we moved mules from one area to another, I was shoulder-checked extremely hard by a mule who blew through a gate at a full gallop, and haven’t had full use of my left arm all day. Our staff put everything on the table for the mules in our care every day, from our emotions to our bodies.
I have seen suffering the likes of which I shouldn’t describe on a social platform in 9.5 years of doing rescue. I have comforted mules who were gasping and groaning in pain from a sudden, severe colic, and I have had to hold mules down with my body who got injured and were panicking as they failed to stand up, so they wouldn’t injure themselves more. I know what suffering looks like, and I acutely know when there is a chance for us to beat it. Knowing when to keep trying and when letting go is the best, safest choice for the animal comes from these gritty, tearful, raw experiences.
When you’ve witnessed enough with your own eyes and hands over many years, you either burn out and walk away completely (which is a completely valid thing to do), or you dig deep and form an unflinching conviction to never let another animal suffer, even if some people think you should wait until it’s the only option you have left.
Yes, it’s always a more difficult choice to make when they still look and act “okay”, rather than waiting until they’re a body score of 1 or down in pain and in need of an immediate mercy. I live and remember the times I could have made a different or a sooner choice. And I remember the times when there was absolutely nothing I could’ve done to stop a freak accident, but the mule suffered nonetheless, until we got there to help them.
The truth is that equines can and often do die very badly, because they are prey animals, and they are heavy. When we can let them go on their last, best day, it is a sweet mercy and a deep relief to know their story will never end any differently at that point. To know they didn’t suffer for a moment while in our care.
I know the thought of euthanasia is sad, and it absolutely is, but it’s also very peaceful and stress-free when it’s done the right way.
Our vet is fantastic. Our process is delicate. They are gently handled, always sedated first, and slowly lowered to a side laying position. From there, the let-go looks like falling asleep. It is absolutely the kindest and best way.
The reason we share when our mules pass here and why is not to excite the critics, but a means of transparency and with the hope that it will teach and encourage others to make the right choices for their own animals. Let them go on a good day.
If you would want that for yourself and the people you love, do it for your animals too.
Thank you for those of you who “get it”, who understand, who support the decisions we make and recognize our efforts at transparency and good stewardship. We could not continue to do any of it without your support. 💙
