Recently in Equine Causes Category
I've been thinking about this for several weeks now. Like many of you who are involved with horse racing--I spend part of every day of my Life feeling guilty, and thinking that I should just pack it up and take a job as secretary to some corporate moron.
You know--a 9-to-5 gig, in which I never take work home with me, not even mentally. Mindless, spineless--no emotional connection to the job, the work or my co-workers. Get a (slim) paycheck for basically putting up with the control issues of a corporate wonk with low self-esteem.
I know that I can't go back to that--but also I can't justify being in horse racing, unless I DO Something. Horse racing has its detractors--and some of the criticism is justified.
But racing also has its fine, amazing points: chief among those are The Horses...
My peeps. I know you love horses.
You wouldn't be reading the ramblings of this crazy Broad, if you weren't a horse lover. So you know that I'm obsessed, too.
But Love without action is useless.
If we say that we love someone--we talk about it all the time--blog about it--post photos of our beloved all Facebook--"like" everything that s/he posts--but wouldn't walk across the street if that person was strangling on a chicken bone--HOW can we call that, Love?
The easy stuff: "liking," posting, waxing poetic--all that amounts to a pile of nothing.
Action is the evidence of Love.
You love horses. I love horses. So I'm telling you today--Tuesday, August 27, 2013--that four Arabian horses in Washington State need homes, ASAP.
They look like racing Arabians, to me.
Regardless if they're show or racing Arabs, the bottom line is that the slaughterhouse has their names and is counting the minutes until these beautiful geldings get strung up by the hooves and exsanguinated, alive.
We do not want this to happen.
We cannot save every horse on Earth, but we may be able to save these four.
Only $400 apiece--the same price that a killbuyer--you know, those evil people who are on their way to Hell?--the same price that a killbuyer would pay.
For four-hundred bucks, a horse's life can be saved, and you can get the best friend you'll ever have. For $1600, you can have FOUR best friends.
Please do me--do the horses--a favor. Time IS of the essence.
Share this information with everyone you know, everyone you can. Thank you so much. God bless you.
I'm going to get the bare facts out there first, so you don't have to pretend to read this whole thing, just to find the details.
On Wednesday, August 14th, NYRA (the New York Racing Association) will host Fabulous Fillies' Day at Saratoga Race Course. Everyone who wears PINK will be granted free grandstand admission. (I'm certain that this includes men and boys--it would be reverse chauvinism, otherwise.)
So! You decide to blow off work, and hit the track with your best Grrlfriends. Y'all wear PINK, and get in for free. Sounds like fun already, right?
But wait, as they say, there's more...
I hope that y'all know me well enough by now, to know that if there's anything I can do to help a horse--I will. I have to admit that, if a decision had to be made--to save my Uncle Ray or save a horse--the horse wins every time. Equines are my preferred species: I've yet to meet a human who loves unconditionally; is beautiful, intelligent and utterly loyal as The Horse.
And you probably know me well enough to know that there's only one sport other than horse racing that I can watch and not want to pluck out my own eyeballs. Golf. My Mother and I used to love watching golf together: it's quiet, cordial (generally speaking) and genteel. No screaming fans, and no one paints their half-nekkid chest the colors of their favorite duffer.
It seems that most horsewomen and horsemen, when they're not at their barns prepping horses for races or sales--is somewhere on a golf course, putting away. No doubt after the cacophony of a race track, they need golf to re-connect with that focus and Zen space in their heads. I'm sure that a lot of horse business gets done on a golf course, as well.
So when I heard that the Grayson-Jockey Club Research Foundation is hosting their 13th Annual Charity Golf Tournament on Tuesday, August 13 at Saratoga National Golf Club...immediately I thought..."I don't golf"...
I'm writing this article with tears in my eyes, and an enormous rip in my heart. I hope that you will take the time to read it all, and embrace what I'm feeling--and what I'm asking of you, as lovers of horses and of horse racing. Please read, and respond in love. Thank you.
As news about the Oklahoma tornado poured in about the tragic losses, one particular story broke my heart. The reason why it stood out in my mind was that the tornado--a gigantic, F5 monster--showed no pity as it crushed buildings and lives. It barreled down on the town of Moore, Oklahoma with the force of a truly satanic wind. Humans who had the opportunity to seek shelter, did so. Even so, humans died. But the horses...oh, the horses...
This is an event that you should attend, virtually.
I didn't write the article, below--I merely took the press release, and edited it. (I'm obsessive--you should know me by now. I never just "look at" something--I have to mess around with it.)
ReRun is a wonderful organization--loving people who do wonderful things for horses. Somehow they teach Thoroughbreds how to paint--YES, to paint--and thereby, become master artists. The paintings are sold--in this case, via eBay--and proceeds to go help ReRun's programs galloping along.
Here's what you do: go to either eBay, following the instructions, or directly to www.ReRun.org and buy something. Heck, throw buckets of cash at them. And if you can't buy something right now, think about it for the future. And perhaps you have a talent or two, that you can offer to ReRun to help their cause.
Whatever you do, read the information, below, and think about how much you loved seeing the glorious, swift Champions on the list during their racing careers.
Now, go to ReRun.org and thank your favorite Champion for all the joy you experienced.
The tracks go in one direction, only, but horse racing is a two-way street.
It's Sunday morning, and, as I sit, coffee mug in-hand and waiting to truly awaken, a report on Good Morning America pierced my blurry morning reverie.
The GMA reporter (whose name evades me, forgive, please: really, the synapses are not firing this morning for things like specific names of humans)--the reporter was in Iceland, reporting on the power of the volcano that is in the throes of foaling gas, glass and rocks. Because of its location, strategically perched on the upper half of the world, and on the Gulf Stream--this volcano is wreaking havoc in European and American airports, as the plume of poisonous junk is preventing planes from taking off or landing--in effect, stranding millions of travelers and effecting the economies of each country as the airlines lose billions of dollars.
We rarely think about something like a volcano, and how it may change Life as we know it. It's a major inconvenience. But it is more than that: as economies suffer from this present belching of the Earth, many lives will be touched as prices rise and many nations struggle to recover from the domino effect caused by this event.
But no one is more at peril from the heaving and blowing of the Icelandic volcano than the Icelandic Horses who are stranded in the Restricted Zone.
The emboldened reporter, accompanied by an official guide in (that which I hope was) a safe, Hummer-like vehicle--drove straight into the Restricted Zone, where the blues skies of the rest of Iceland surrended and become a sickening shade of yellowish-brown, then black, as they drove closer to the foul-mouthed monster pustule on the head of the Earth.
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