I’m in love with horses. I have been since I was a little girl. Once, when I was about 10, I brought a shetland pony home and told my mom that someone was willing to sell her to me for $100. My mom just stared at me like I was on the moon. We lived in a trailer park, first of all. Granted, we had a lot of space compared to most trailer parks but 1/3 of an acre is NOT big enough for a horse…even a pony. Secondly, she stated, in no uncertain terms, that it would cost her that much each week just to feed it and where did I think *that* money would come from?

I’ve never owned a horse but I’ve stolen some. I was a modern-day horse rustler as a child. My neighbors in my rural hometown in Montana would go on vacation and I would go to their horse pastures to ride their horses. My brother and I only got caught once…and it was hell, let me tell you.

My other neighbor was my best friend and she had a Tennessee Walker that I got to ride occasionally.

So, when I’m offered a chance to work the horse races and be close to the horses (other than the Shetland ponies that my mom *now* owns), I jump at it.

Race horses are definitely not the horses I would like to own one day. They are high-strung, they are so in-bred that they have *serious* health problems, and they are just too much for someone like me. They are so beautiful, though. They are incredibly graceful and powerful.

I have a love-hate relationship with the horse races. I like being close to the horses. I like watching them run a strong race. I hate, however, the drugs the horses are fed (Lasix, for one) and I am the worse person to be with at a race when a horse goes down. It breaks my heart.

I was the official timer for the local horse races this 4th of July weekend. That means that I sat up in the judges quarters with the race stewards and kept time of the races. I was also there to hear of any problems, watch how inquiries were handled, and got to see the photos in the photo finishes before anyone else. It also meant that I was in the one place that would hear the news of the one horse that went down during the entire weekend.

He came out of the gate hard and was pulling his rider along. He broke his back right leg and when he went down, throwing his rider, he broke his back. It is one the worst sights that you can see, watching a 1000 pound animal going down that hard.

I stayed in the quarters long enough to give the time and then I left. I couldn’t stay. I was ready to burst into tears. It hurts me to see an animal hurt (the jockey walked away with no injuries, thank goodness). I just couldn’t stay to watch and hear what was going on behind the screen that had been pulled up as quickly as the horse went down. I couldn’t watch.

It was a tragic end to that horse’s life. I’m thankful that nothing else like that happened.

I’m also thankful that I got to watch more of those graceful beauties run as the weekend progressed.