Raced to death at Royal Ascot

Horse racing is cruel

My lovely daughter was a guest at Royal Ascot yesterday. Into the exclusive innner confines of this wealthy world she was lured by her love of horses. The Queen and her entourage came and went with the exquisite hors d’oeuvres.I have no doubt that the free flowing gold, bubbles and extravagantly dismissed lavishness created an impact.

She would have loved seeing the horses, proud, wild, muscular taut with excitement as they were taken down to the start. Prancing, dancing, manes flying and tails trailing, their jockeys looking like incidental add-ons perched on top.

Even more, my soft hearted daughter would have felt a pride in the horse that won, enjoyed for him the adulation of the crowd.

That horse that won then died. From a heart attack. He had been ridden to death by the little jockey rider that for all his diminutive appearance was the thief of his life. The jockey of course has accomplices: the trainer, the owner and the wealth and avarice around that “justifies” running a horse, literally, to the ground.

It is utter rubbish that horses like to race like this. Horses may like to run, but have you ever heard of a horse on the plains, in the forest running so hard it died of a heart attack? No.

How many horses die every year in racing? I don’t know, but it is many.

Running a horse so fast it dies is cruel. Anyone who thinks otherwise is just kidding themselves - blinded perhaps by the gilded cage around them.

As for my daughter, she will survive of course. But her heart which was so glad is sad. She will never go to the races again for she did not like it.For all the splendour and regalia, she saw the day at it’s core. She is a horse lover and did not like what she saw.