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Turn it all the way up to eleven.
I got up just in time to make a cup of coffee and watch our horse put them all to bed in an allowance race again. Too dull to freak about the hazards, I watched it live instead of waiting till it was over to watch the replay.
All her quirks seem to be mellowing into something more like charming than worrying. She gets out the gate better than any horse I ever saw. No matter what train wreck may be ahead, she never messes that up. This has been a major source of encouragement for me because that is disaster central for neon-brained thoroughbreds. We have been spared that much.
She has definitely stopped weaving forever. She at last has ceased melting down every time the jockey has the temerity to goad her. We seem to have a jockey who understands how to pace her, not get so excited about the spectacular breaks out the gate that he loses his head and forgets to keep her from going into hyperdrive before it does the trick.
The last goofiness she retains is her sightseeing thing. She likes scenery. She likes the people in the stands. She ain't lookin' where she's goin', turns her head to the left to kibbitz with the horse she's passing, and then goes back to ogling the stands as she puts the pack behind her for the wire. Easy win, again. Amazing.
This time she went off the favorite, despite stiff competition from another horse, and the horse to the right of her in the gate taking a VERY hard left out the gate. If she were not such a star in that department there would have been a pile up, and this is where my befogglement upon arising from the sack comes in handy again. I'm too witless to become alarmed by such things until after due consideration.
I'm still hoping she will pull a John Henry and get faster with age. It may be my very last chance to become an heiress.
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