Hypocrites on the Hoof

UPDATE: Here's a suggestion for trainers… If ya' don't want people and the press jumpin' down your throat for abusin' racehorses, ya' reeeally might try to avoid sayin' things like this:

Beau Greely (trainer, Tres Borrachos, 30-1) [commenting on his horses' post position draw] – “Wonderful. He broke out of the inside pretty well the last time in the Arkansas Derby. Big Brown’s had an outside post the last couple of times. [Big Brown will start from post #7 out of 13.] If he’s [Big Brown] somewhere in the mix, maybe someone will knock him [Big Brown] around and play a little smash mouth.”

Well, the Preakness is Saturday and naturally there are a bunch of screechin' fe-lyings out there callin' for ya' to boycott the Triple Crown. I already tried tellin' 'em that was pretty silly since no one would consider boycottin' the Super Bowl or World Series or Stanley Cup or Indy 500 'cause of all the human carnage that could take place. 'Course they yowled right back with ole' chestnut 'bout not comparin' animals to humans… 'Scuse me? Aren't those yappy, sappy types the ones always tellin' anyone within earshot (and some who wish they weren't) that animals have the same feelings and emotions and rights as humans?

PETA, of course, will be holdin' a fund-rasin' rally outside for the gullible since it's official they sure as hell don't care 'bout animals.


Statistics from Virginia’s Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services


Since AHM and me just did a whole series 'bout Triple Crown winners, we thought we'd check 'em out for suitability, like, were they old enough, big enough, and healthy enough to be champions. So let's see…

Gallant Fox, Omaha, Count Fleet, Assault, and Secretariat were all born in the last week of March, while Whirlaway and Citation were born the first week of April, makin' 'em barely 3-years-old at the time of the Triple Crown. Only Seattle Slew and Affirmed were born in mid-to-late February (as was Big Brown).

Sir Barton (birth date unknown) won not only the Triple Crown, but four races in 32 days ( Derby, Preakness, Withers, Belmont).

War Admiral (birth date unknown) was a shrimpy 15.3 hands, raced 26 times as a 3-year-old, and won 21 of those races. Assault barely made it to horse status at 15 hands and was called the "Club Footed Comet" since he ran with a deformed right hoof after a juvenile foot injury. He also had kidney, splint bone, ankle, knee, and bleeding problems.

Seabiscuit was knock-kneed and Seattle Slew's right leg curved outward causing him to sway to the outside when he ran.

Hmmmmm… Doesn't sound like any of those horses should have been competin', does it? But maybe just the filly shouldn't have been runnin' with the big boys, females bein' such delicate little things, right?

Genuine Risk (born 2/15 and the last living Derby winner) won the 1980 Derby and finished second in both the Preakness and Belmont (the only filly to have ever come that close to the Triple Crown). If ya' watch the video, you'll see she got bumped around and still reached the finish line a winner. (Codex did manage to interfere her out of a Preakness win, but the officials wouldn't take down his number.)

Winning Colors (born 2/14) was a big—almost 17 hands—muscular, dark gray filly. Before the race, Winning Colors' jockey Gary Stevens, a race commentator at the Derby, said Eight Belles, at 16.2 hands, looked very much like his old mount.

So much for that idea.

Lots of other arguments are bein' thrown around out there 'bout why horseracin' is bad such as "horses can't agree to bein' raced." Maybe not verbally, but ya' know there's a reason for the old sayin' "You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink." If a horse doesn't wanna' run, it just ain't gonna' run. And if ya' think usin' a whip on 'em will help, well, you just haven't been around horses—or their hooves. (No, watchin' The Horse Whisperer doesn't count. Besides, we knew the real "horse whisperer." Robert Redford ain't even close!)

If ya' bother to pay attention, you'll see the jockeys are usin' their sticks on the horses' butts which is sorta' like swattin' your little pussywillow on the butt through jeans. The place you do not ever want to swat a horse is immediately behind the girth. On day AHM was at the stable, just sittin' on her horse waitin' to enter the jumpin' ring, when some fool walked up, swatted the horse right behind the girth with a crop, and said "You're next." AHM swears her horse waited until the fool—being a real fe-lyin' fool—walked around the hind end. As soon as they were in range, the horse kicked the crap out of 'em, breakin' their back. (Yes, they eventually recovered fully.)

Another argument—horses only run fast 'cause they've been/are drugged. We're major anti-drugs around here so I'm not gonna' defend anyone caught dopin'. And I'm not sure if the kind of steroids Barry Bonds uses would "bulk up" a racehorse or not. Pennsylvania did some unofficial testin' around its tracks last winter and 98.8% of the horses tested clean for steroids. (No info on whether the steroids bein' used on the other 1.2% were to treat or mask an injury.)

Bottom line, if you're not feelin' good or not in shape, ya' shouldn't be competin' whether you're human or equine or canine. But I'll bet lots of those yowlers have taken an anti-pain med or two before headin' to the gym so they can keep the workout goin'. Not only that, I'll bet more than a few of 'em have shoved psycho-somethin' pills down their pet's (or kiddie's) gullets to "adjust" their behavior. (Not PETA-devils, of course. Their preferred method of behavioral adjustment is a bullet to the brain, so they're just cryin' crocodile tears over Eight Belles. Ya' know every time an animal dies, another PETA-devil gets their horns.)

Movin' on—what about trainin'/racin' horses at such a young age? Over at the PETA blogsite (yes, your intrepid canine-spondent braved the depths of hell) one commentor actually said it was like puttin' a 7-year-old in the Indy 500. Hmmm… So much for the you-can't-compare-humans-to-animals argument. (Besides, did ya' ever run into a 7-year-old in one of these? It may only be pedal-powered, but those puny little pistons can put out when they wanna'.)

Now in case ya' never noticed, newborn foals are up on those four toothpicks of theirs within minutes of bein' born and they're already tryin' to run after Mom the next day. We canines (and other species) don't even open our eyes for two weeks, and you humans don't grow up for—well—some of ya' never do.

I'll also bet a lot of the fools hissin' and spittin' about racin' two-year-old horses have their little pussywillows playin' organized sports (even if it is sissy soccer) 'cause they know regular exercise builds muscles and strong bodies. 'Course they don't let 'em have regular old play, like recess, 'cause they might actually, ya' know, compete with each other and, horror of horrors, skin their pwecious wuddle knees—which is why y'all got a bunch kids that waddle.

But ya' don't have to believe me… How 'bout listenin' to the vet on the scene?

[Dr. Larry] Bramlage was on-call at the Derby when Eight Belles took her final strides. Her injury, less common, but not caused, according to the vet, by her age, her jockey, or the track. […]

As animal groups…protest the sport and demand changes, Bramlage has repeatedly gone on the record to say they're misguided. "Their facts are wrong. It's been scientifically looked at that horses that train as two year olds race more times more successfully, earn more money and make more starts than horses that don't train until they're 3," Bramlage said.

"And while horses are delicate by nature, their injuries have to be put into context. "There'll be more dogs fatally injured taking walks this year than there will be race horses injured racing. I doubt that we'll stop walking our dogs," says Bramlage."

Don't count on it. We got a problem with fat canines, too.

After all that, what have we learned?…

…that there are waaaay too many ignorant, emotional hypocrites runnin' free durin' a presidential election year.

Read the rest!

Ewwww Moments in Time

Adult on baby "affectionate handling" and kissin' "…on the lips."

"Someone adopted a baby raccoon and passed it around to everyone they knew and kissed it on the lips," [Clair] Boatwright said. “There was a lot of affectionate handling."

It's a-liiiiive!

"A North Texas woman says she was repulsed by what she found at the bottom of a bag of movie popcorn. A live mouse. She said the movie theatre has been slow to fix the situation."

From tastin' bad to bad taste—or both.

"A painter in India is giving fans a taste of his talents by using his tongue instead of a brush to create works of art."

When hypochondriacs get together, they play Infected, the Card Game.

"Infected is a game designed for 2-10 people. To play: simply draw a card and use your body to communicate your new affliction to the other players, if someone guesses the illness in a timely manner [without tossin' their Liver Snaps®], the amount of points indicated on the card are awarded to both the infected person and the player who diagnoses them."

With full ewwww-inspirin' illustrations.

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Canine vs. Coyote

Kelly the Little Black Dog dug up this incredible photo essay by Komar documentin' a farm dog defendin' his territory from a coyote. Guess who won?

And if ya' ever doubted my ancestry…

              

Now stay outa' my face.

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Easy As 1, 2, 3

I shoulda' mentioned this weeks ago but got a little distracted by other stuff. Meryl Yourish has a new kitten, aptly named Tig3, who's creatin' quite a stir in her house. (Personally I can't figure out why humans go ga-ga over the little buggers 'cause they're nothin' more than a menace underfoot, but I'm biased.)

Anyway, bein' young 'n all, Tig3 could probably use some advice, 'specially 'bout how to deal with staircases, when he finally gets to try 'em out, that is. The proper way—the handed-down-from-the-terrier-oldsters way—is to avoid climbin' stairs at all (particularly uncarpeted stairs), as long as you can. If ya' run the con just right, it could be weeks, 'tho I doubt your Human Female is quite as gullible as our Silly Human Female.

It's basically a three step process.

1. Follow your human to the bottom of the stairs, put one paw on the lowest step and make a few tries at haulin' yourself up. (Do not, under any circumstances, actually haul your furry little butt onto that first step.)
2. Yowl piteously—or, in your case, loudly. Try again. Fail again. Repeat as necessary until...
3. Human female comes back downstairs, picks you up, and carries you up the steps.

I tell ya', Tig3, we rode up (and sometimes down) like royalty for weeks. In fact, if one of my dim-witted siblings hadn't tried the routine on AHM (who's smarter than your average human) we could have kept it going' for at least another month. But AHM just told him to knock it off and get upstairs. When Silly Human Female rushed down the hall sayin' we were too little to walk up the stairs, AHM almost fell down the steps laughin'. See, we'd been followin' AHM up and down the whole time.

Learn from our mistakes, kid.

Read the rest!

Kibbles 'n Bits®

Yogi gets a Boo-Boo

"The bear climbed a tree over Rock Lake in Orlando and fell asleep… The bear eventually did fall into the lake when the branch he was on snapped. He was able to swim to shore where trappers tranquilized it. [He] broke his paw, but wildlife officials think he will make a fast recovery."

Feral Parrots in Brooklyn…the music video.

Stupid Quote of…well…forever:

"Now people in the market for a dog might want to consider a [gold]fish instead."

They'd Be Better Off With a Goldfish

"Two reviews of [Dolphin-Assisted Therapy]…concluded that there is no credible scientific evidence for the effectiveness of this intervention."

Just consider the size of those wheelchairs!

"India's first retirement home for elderly elephants opens next month…where the colossal beasts can spend their twilight years in dignity."

Depends on what they're inhalin'.

Fe-lyings Fail Again…

"Rats are blamed for shutting down Internet Service Wednesday for Qwest customers through Cochise County."

Chihuahuas beware.

"After being alerted by neighbors,…animal control officials served a search warrant…at the residence [where]…pet rats had ruined the house,… Poison was used before [the rat rescue] volunteer group [RatsPacNW] got involved,… "They're very smart, they're very clean, they can do tricks," [Hillary] Price said. "They're like little miniature dogs."

And finally, something PETA should really be worried about.

Read the rest!

Start…

Ever wonder what the horses and riders see at the beginnin' of a Kentucky Derby?





…to finish—from my point of view.

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Kentucky Derby Picks

Someone wondered via email if I even watch the Derby, bein' a canine and all. Well of course I watch. First, we're attracted to lots of fast-movin' things and ya' gotta' admit those equines are movin' fast. Second, it's not often we get to see that much potential dinner-on-the-hoof in one place. Third, it's reeeeally tough to ignore AHM jumpin' up and down and screamin' at that flickerin' lighted thing in the corner.

They also dared me to post our picks before the Derby. Well, I've looked like a fool before and I'll probably do it again, so why not.

So here's the ones we like—but in no particular order.

Big Brown, Colonel John, Visonaire, and Pyro. What makes all these guys so special? They are all descended from Secretariat, Seattle Slew, and/or Alydar.

Now that doesn't mean a longer shot might not sneak through—it is basically a cavalry charge with 20 of 'em all aimin' for the same square foot of ground. (Yeah, I know Visionaire is a long-shot already, but he's got my Michael Matz/Barbaro sympathy vote.)

But if the filly Eight Belles wins, don't look for a Triple Crown winner this year.

Read the rest!

Cheaper By the Dozen

Maybe so, but over 89 years of the Triple Crown there have only been 11 champions. First Sir Barton in 1919, before it was even called the Triple Crown. Then a gap of nearly a dozen years to the beginnin' of a string of Triple Crown winners, all within less than two decades: Gallant Fox in 1930 and his son Omaha in 1935; War Admiral in 1937; Whirlaway in 1941; Count Fleet two years later in 1943, only three years before Assault in 1946; and the mighty Citation just two years afterward in 1948.

When you read the varied histories of these equine superstars, you'll discover many of them won not only three grueling races within two months or less, most of them raced—and won--four times in that short space of time.

It took twenty-five years before there was another champion who could even come close, and we've only had three Triple Crown winners over the last quarter century. The electrifyin' Secretariat in 1973; the undefeated Seattle Slew in 1977; and finally the brilliant Affirmed in 1978.

Why? Has the blood of the greats become too diluted by mediocre parings? Have breeders focused so much on speed they sacrificed durability? Or have trainers just got themselves so spread out among their charges they're not developin' them to their fullest. And the owners…now all they seem interested in is winnin' the Derby, maybe the Preakness or the Belmont or the Breeder's Cup Classic, then rakin' in the stud fees.

They do the same sort of thing in canine show biz world. Ya' get a Championship, maybe do a few shows as a Special with a Group Placement or three for credibility and badda bing, badda boom, you're entertainin' the ladies. ('Course I did the badda bing thing while I was still enterin' shows, but that's 'cause I'm uniquely multidimensional. [Not to mention egotistical.~AHM] Hey, if ya' got it, flaunt it.) Anyway, some owners have so many of these "Champions" they sell 'em off for pets when the new litter of pups is ready for the ring.

Today we'll see "the greatest two minutes in racing," and sometime after 6 p.m. we'll have a new Kentucky Derby champion. Will he—or she—be the one to eventually make it an even dozen Triple Crown winners? I got my choices and AHM has hers but we're not tellin'. Go pick your own.

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