I love horses.
I get it honestly. My mother has loved horses all her life. When my grandfather won his farm in a dice game, one of the things that he got with it was a pony named Star. That pony was Mom's best friend until she ran away from home at 16.
As I grew up, Mom gave me books about horses to educate me. When I turned six, the book was "Profiles in Courage," a compilation of stories about real horses and dogs who'd performed acts of bravery. At ten, I received, "King of the Wind," the story of the Godolphin Arabian, and one of my favorites still. That was followed by, "Black Beauty" and "The Black Stallion," and if you really want me to cry, you'll watch the movie of "Black Beauty" with me from start to finish.
So why do I watch horse racing?
In spite of the fact that this sport is hideous on horses, and I know it, I am still thrilled to see them run. There is something undeniably uplifting to see a living creature move that fast, with that kind of strength and power. It's one of the most atavistic pulls I think human nature knows. I think it's why humans still, to this day, adore and admire horses, and identify with them in some fashion.
Horse racing is called "the sport of kings," probably because only kings could afford the time and money it cost to raise, train, and then bet on these beautiful creatures to run around a track. Yet horses used to be raced only after they were mature--about six or seven years old. However, trainers eventually discovered that there were drugs that could be given to horses that made them able to run as long and fast even when sick or injured. And the cost of raising horses soon led many owners to start racing horses younger and younger, particularly when stakes races began paying out more in purse money. It made sense to the owners to get these equine babies out making money, getting a return on their investments, so to speak.
Never mind that a horse needs time to grow and mature, and that, at 2 and 3 years of age, their bones are still fragile.
Sportswriters and racing reporters know all too well that their subjects are as fine as glass. CBS sportscaster Jack Whitaker once said, "Nothing can take away the horror of seeing a horse break down. It's like seeing a masterpiece destroyed."
I was five when Ruffian, the incredible Filly Triple Crown winner of 1975, raced Foolish Pleasure in 1976--and suffered a horrific breakdown that led to her euthanization. Go For Wand, another winning filly who was the 1989 Eclipse winner as the Outstanding Two-Year-Old Filly, went down at the Breeders' Cup Distaff in 1990. That one, I saw on TV, and watched in horror as she shattered her right ankle, and then got up to try to finish the race.
After Go For Wand was euthanized, right on the track, I began reading about why ankle injuries are so fatal to horses.
Horses need to be able to bear their weight on their feet. Their circulatory system demands it--they need the pressure on their feet in order for the blood to return back up their legs. If they can't stand for long periods of time, they risk having necrotization of the tissue in their feet, inflammation (or worse, laminitis), paralysis, and eventually death.
If you have a horse that can't stand up, you have a horse that is going to be in incredible pain. And laminitis is an ever-present threat with ankle injuries. Barbaro, the 2006 Kentucky Derby winner who broke down at the Preakness, was put down precisely because laminitis set up in his hind feet. His broken bones were healing. However, laminitis, an inflammation of the inner hoof wall, is excruciating, and a horse that cannot stand . . . well.
You know.
So today I thought, perhaps I'll watch the Derby. I saw that Eight Belles, a gorgeous black filly, was going to run from the 5th post in an attempt to become the fourth filly to win the Run for the Roses. And because my heart has always been caught by big, beautiful, black horses, I was pulling for her to win.
And that is why, when I saw that Eight Belles broke both front ankles after finishing second, resulting in her euthanization on the track, that I will never watch horse racing again.
I can't bear it.
They are beautiful, brave, and intelligent animals. And I keep thinking, as I hold back tears thinking of Eight Belles, Barbaro, Go For Wand, Ruffian, and countless other tragedies, that we owe them more than to drive them to shatter their bodies for public amusement.