I love horses. I love horses almost as much as I love dogs. And I love horse racing. Never bet on a horse race in my life, but I just love how for whatever reason horses run as fast as they can. Why do they do it?
I loved American Pharoah. He never seemed to get caught up in all the hoopla of winning the Triple Crown. His facial expression at the end of the Belmont Stakes when he won the Triple Crown seemed to say, “Isn’t this what I was supposed to do, now where are my oats?”
When I take Tuf-Tuf (you know Sir Tuffington Something or Other the Jack Russell) for his early morning walk (Pete the Shih Tzu sleeps in, he’s definitely smarter than me and Tuf-Tuf), we’ve run into wild horses a couple times. To my amazement, Tuf-Tuf, who normally bounces off the walls, just takes all the big animals in stride. Animals seem to sense each other.
Tuf-Tuf is also a ball thief. But it has to be a ball that squeaks, which again amazes me how sounds so similar can affect a dog so differently. When the batteries to one of our smoke alarms chirps, Tuf-Tuf hides in a fetal position. He can’t stand that sound.
But the squeak of a ball drives him nuts. As those at the dog park have found out, however, when they throw Tuf-Tuf the ball that squeaks, he won’t give it back. Then I look like a fool chasing Tuf-Tuf all over the park trying to get the ball back.
But even Tuf-Tuf has nothing on this horse (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/this-horse-and-a-squeaky-rubber-chicken-make-lasting-memories_us_5873d19ee4b043ad97e4e0eb?section=us_weird-news), who just can’t get enough of this squeaking rubber chicken.
If this horse would travel with his toy, it would give new meaning to the rubber chicken circuit.
— Charles Whisnand
