Name:Harrison Location:United States

The Original Lovable Little Fuzzball

Here's the straight stuff.

The adventures of Harrison are true.
Try a few of his Crunchy Bites for a taste.
--Alpha Human Mom

Friday, April 25, 2008

Everything Doesn't Always Come Up Roses

This comin' Saturday is one of our favorite days of the year—the runnin' of the Kentucky Derby. AHM has been followin' the Derby and Triple Crown races since looooong before any of my foresires were around and we got introduced to racehorses up close 'n personal while she was workin' at a racin' stable in California. Bottom line: they're big. Big, big, big. Big bodies, big teeth, reeeeally big feet. And when they sneeze…well…we are only twenty pounds, ya' know. One shot of horse snot is all it takes and it ain't pretty.

So, since the Demo-cat presidential race has disintegrated into nothin' more than flyin' globs of donkey snot, we decided to start followin' a real horse race and rememberin' some great hoofers.

First up, Sir Barton (1916-1937) who went from Triple Crown winner to army horse to cow pony. In 1919 he became the first winner of what eventually became known as the Triple Crown, 'tho considerin' he won a fourth race—the Withers Stakes—in between the Preakness and the Belmont maybe he should be called a Quadruple Crown winner.

When he was entered into the Derby, he had never won a race in his life and was expected to be the rabbit—the speed horse sent out to wear down the rest of the field—for stable mate Billy Kelly.

Sir Barton went to the lead, all right, staying there to win by five lengths. Four days later he went to Baltimore to win the Preakness Stakes wire to wire. After that he won the Withers and Belmont Stakes in New York. And he did it all in a month.

The next year—late in his four-year-old season—Sir Barton ran the legendary match race against the great three-year-old Man o' War. He lost the race and the public lost interest in him. He retired to stud with mediocre success and at age 17 was sold to the U.S. Army Remount Service. After that he ended up on a Wyoming ranch where Sir Barton ended his years, dying at age 21.

They don't breed 'em like they used to.

posted by Harrison at 12:01 PM


Post a Comment