MY SWEETIE PIE

I imagine most people have had at least one "sweetie pie" in their life.  I suppose, over the years, I've had several.  But the most unusual sweetie pie I ever took a shine to was when I was just a teenager, the age when hormonal-hornys are raging out of control and at their peak.  However, my relationship with this young filly, although I spent a lot of time alone with her, was definitely platonic.  I'm not sure if it was love at first sight but she had the longest legs imaginable and was much taller than me; her long hair was the colour of straw and she really enjoyed having me run a comb through it.  Her big soft eyes were the colour of dark chocolate and her disposition was just as sweet.  Sometimes in the early morning, when we walked together side by side, she would gently lay her head on my shoulder and look into my eyes.  The racetrack was not a place for Sweetie Pie, she belonged back at the farm spending her days grazing in the pasture or just relaxing in the sunshine.

I was working at Exhibition Park in Vancouver, BC when the old half-ton truck pulling a horse trailer from the interior of BC pulled up to the barn, which contained several race horses my dad trained.  As I recall, even after her long jostling ride, Sweetie Pie didn't want to get out of the trailer and I can't say as I blame her - like I said - the racetrack was not a place for the likes of her.  From the first day she arrived until the day she left, the little filly was terrified; everything about the race track scared her.

Sweetie Pie was just 2 years old when she arrived at the track and had never raced before.  It didn't take very long to discern that besides being skittish about any little thing that moved or made a noise, her early morning work-outs didn't show much promise - she wasn't going to be much of a runner - that was for sure - not even if her life depended on it.

To this day, over 50 years ago, I still clearly remember her maiden debut at the track; the stands were filled with eager bettors.  Before the race, after I'd picked and oiled her hooves, brushed her chestnut coat till it gleamed like gold in the summer sun, braided her flaxen mane and tail and tied bright yellow pom-poms in it; she looked like a sure-fire winner!  As I walked her around the paddock with the other horses in the race, her neck was bowed, her nostrils were flared and she was chomping on the bit, flecks of froth spattering to the ground.  The crowd of race horse fans gathered around the low paddock fence, excitedly clutching their racing forms, eager to place their bets, must have thought so too; most likely figured she was all gussied up for the photo in the winner's circle when the race was over because they bet her off the board.  I didn't feel sorry for the gamblers who would later shred their tickets on No.7 but I did feel a tinge of sadness as my dad took hold of the jockey's boot and helped hoist him into the saddle; Sweetie Pie's eyes almost popped out of their sockets and I could see that she was wishing she was just about any place else than where she was.  If nothing else, she looked as pretty as a princess as she pranced her way to the starting gate.  I remember looking at my dad and wondering if he was thinking the same thing; when the starting bell rang and the gates flew open, would she even come out or just stand there and cower with fear.

When the bell rang and the race announcer yelled, "They're off!" Sweetie Pie came flying out of the gate, along with all the rest of the charging horses but she was gawking around so much, she was soon left far behind in the dust.  The jockey put the crop to her ass end but it was pointless, she just seemed to have one speed and it wasn't very fast.  She was so far behind the second from the last horse when she crossed the finish line, I'd have thought her fans would have booed, but instead, they all stood and applauded, actually clapped their hands; the only time I ever saw such a thing the whole 10 years I spent working at the racetrack.

To be continued...SWEETIE PIE'S LAST RACE

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    Darryl Knowles Very nice, descriptive but leaving enough to my imagination to take me there.. look forward to reading the further explotes of Sweety Pie..

    January 8 at 5:54pm ·
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    Len Sherman Thanks Darryl - Sweetie Pie's last race is worth reading - not sure what the Be Kind to Animals activists will think - they might be marching up and down in front of my house soon.