According to Bramlage, [Eight Belles] suffered condylar fractures in both forelegs. The left was dislocated and opened the skin, contaminating the injury. She fractured "at least one sesamoid" in her right leg, Bramlage said.

Every year, I watch the Triple Crown races, and every year I feel guilty about it. I love to see strong, beautiful horses do what they do best, but the racing industry has a very ugly side (just like every discipline has an ugly side). What happened to Eight Belles is part of the reason it makes me feel dirty to watch the races, but in a way, Eight Belles was lucky. Her life was short, her pain was brief, and her end was quick.

My horse, Logan, is a former racehorse. His career on the track was unspectacular and ended with an injury. He was one of the lucky ones who didn't end up broken down and unwanted, on a truck to the slaughterhouse: two days with no food or water, trying to stand on three legs in a trailer meant for cows, with a ceiling so low the horses can't even lift their heads.

In most countries where horses are slaughtered for food, they are processed in a similar fashion to cattle, in large-scale factory slaughter houses where they are stunned with a captive bolt gun and bled to death.

Logan is now in perfect health. He is sound; he is rideable; he is, in fact, a handful.

"He's a pretty boy," Shelly said about him, the last time we rode in one of her clinics. "That's probably what saved him."

Someone snatched him up at an auction, put some time into rehabbing and retraining him, and he eventually ended up with us.

A lot of horses, pretty and not so pretty, don't get saved.

Ex-racehorses, riding horses, and other horses sold at auction may also enter the food chain; sometimes these animals have been stolen or purchased under false pretenses.

Kill buyers, as they are known, purchase horses at auctions, and then turn around and sell them to the slaughterhouses for a profit. Sometimes, they respond to "free to a good home" ads, or ads for very cheap horses, and misrepresent themselves as just plain ol' folks looking for a nice horse to love.

But they are not the problem--they wouldn't even exist if there weren't so many unwanted horses out there. If they couldn't make money doing it, they wouldn't bother.

I mop up. I clean up the mess left by morons who just have to breed their mare. Every spring I send dozens of mares and new foals to the meat plant. And every spring there are idiots breeding more babies. (kill buyer Manny Phelps; April 10 entry)

Joe and Cathy Shelton run one of the many Thoroughbred rescues out there, working to provide a temporary home, and in some cases a permanent home, for the racing industry's discards. He's saved hundreds of horses from the kill buyers.

Key Maker is 6, and he broke down badly at the race track. We call him Key, and he would make a wonderful companion to another horse.

Six years old, and can never be ridden again.

Horses live into their twenties, their thirties. They start racing at two years of age, when they are still babies, before they are done growing, and some of them are dead or irreparably damaged by age three. The horses you see run in the Kentucky Derby are three years old. Barbaro was three years old. Eight Belles was three years old.

What happened to Eight Belles isn't that rare. By some accounts, a horse breaks down on the racetrack somewhere in this country every day. Hundreds of Barbaros every year, running on shattered legs.

My daughter is 12 and all she talks about is horses. We went to Bay Meadows Race Track so my daughter could see close up the beautiful thoroughbreds. During a race, as the horses approached the finish line, a horse broke his leg and right in front of us his leg was dangling. (letter to Joe; May 6th entry)

It takes a death on national television to piss off America. But every morning during workouts horses die. Every afternoon when they race they die. I get to see how they suffer. I am an exercise rider...I cannot tell you how many times I have gone home from work and thrown up. (letter to Joe; May 6th entry)

If they get hurt, they are tossed aside like trash. The Sheltons have over 100 horses on their property at any given time, an incredible number. But only a drop in the bucket compared to the 13,000 Thoroughbreds born every year.

Gone Cattin. He raced a long time, made decent money, and then came to us with a badly broken knee.

Salvino raced a long time. He is missing his right eye.

Even if they survive an injury, they may not be able to carry a rider ever again. Their futures are bleak, because few people want a horse they can't ride.

Affairs Over. He broke down at the race track and should never be ridden. Affairs Over would make a great best friend to another horse. He is 6 years old.

These horses are bred to entertain humans, and--let's not forget this part--make money. When they don't make money, they are discarded. People in the industry love to talk up the "pampering" race horses get, but this is only the high-end racehorses (you think those horses racing at the county fairs get massages and top-quality feed?), and it's only as long as they are worth the expense.

Here is a documented fact: Storm Cat has a stud fee of three hundred thousand dollars. Since 2001 we have rescued 14 of his sons and daughters for an average price of 35 cents a pound. (March 2nd entry.)

Sometimes being a huge moneymaker doesn't save them, either.

The 1986 Kentucky Derby winner Ferdinand is believed to have been slaughtered in Japan, probably for pet food.

Logan lives in a heated barn. He is turned out every day, weather permitting, and eats a wonderfully balanced diet. He gets treats and praise and love, and he works--easy work--about six whole hours a week.

His end won't come on a track, bleeding into the dirt, or as a respite from a painful, hungry life spent shuffling from one neglectful owner to another, until he finds his way to the slaughterhouse.

Pinned to the bulletin board in my step-dad's office is a drawing, plans for the pole barn my parents are going to build on their property. In the back there will be two stalls--one for Logan, and one for a friend. This is where he will live when he retires and we no longer ride him. We will bring him home, and love him until his last day.

Every horse deserves to be loved until their last day.

On Saturday horse killer Manny Phelps phones to say I better take a filly. She is tiny, and starving. For just $250.00 the filly could be mine.

I want to tell you about Jag. A former lesson horse, Jag came to us last year when he was no longer wanted. Jag is a thoroughbred, and he worries. All the time I hear how stupid Thoroughbreds are. Inbred, with little common sense. But you should meet Jag. Smarter than any horse I have been with. The world he carries on his shoulders.

And in monster winds with sideways rain comes this tiny starving filly from horse killer Manny Phelps. Her gums are white, and she is dying. He greets the tiny starving filly, and refuses to leave her side. Once again, the world on his shoulders. (February 28th entry.)

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15891 County Road 92C
Woodland CA 95695-9217