Smarty Jones' Retirement
A news item came across our Internet screens today that amazed both me and my wife. It concerned Smarty Jones, the nearly Triple Crown winner, and his days now spent in retirement. The report detailed how Smarty has (so far) sired one foal, and gotten 92 other mares pregnant.
Ninety-two! My initial reaction was, I believe, a typical male one: "Go Smarty! You got to do it with 92 chicks! Wooooo-hooooo!" It got me thinking on a few fronts.
First, what a monotonous retirement he must be having. I can only imagine his typical day: sleep, eat, do it, sleep, eat, do it, sleep, eat, do it, repeat as necessary. The poor fellow probably needs a vacation.
Second, I thought that it's about time that we raised a champion race horse. I said, "Kelly, today I want to start training you to become a champion race horse. Now, I realize that this is a formidable challenge, but this is no time to think small. It's time to rise above your limitations, to soar with the eagles (no, wait, bad metaphor in this town), to run with the thoroughbreds. I know you can do it, Kelly. I can't do it myself; I only have two legs, but you have four legs, and I'm sure that the National Horse Racing Association, or whoever governs this sport, requires (darn them) that their competitors all have four legs. So, Kelly, what do you say?"
Kelly gave me one of his stern looks and simply said "Meow!"
Translation: "You silly man, no, you very very silly man. It has obviously escaped your attention that I am a CAT. True, I have the right number of legs, but I am the wrong species. Besides, I can see through your real reason to race me. You just want to sell my services for stud, but we're screwed there too. You forgot that I am fixed!"
Kelly, being a cat of few words, turned and walked off, tail held high, to the first of numerous daily cat naps.
Oh well! Congratulations, Smarty Jones, on your, um, productive reproductive retirement!
Ninety-two! My initial reaction was, I believe, a typical male one: "Go Smarty! You got to do it with 92 chicks! Wooooo-hooooo!" It got me thinking on a few fronts.
First, what a monotonous retirement he must be having. I can only imagine his typical day: sleep, eat, do it, sleep, eat, do it, sleep, eat, do it, repeat as necessary. The poor fellow probably needs a vacation.
Second, I thought that it's about time that we raised a champion race horse. I said, "Kelly, today I want to start training you to become a champion race horse. Now, I realize that this is a formidable challenge, but this is no time to think small. It's time to rise above your limitations, to soar with the eagles (no, wait, bad metaphor in this town), to run with the thoroughbreds. I know you can do it, Kelly. I can't do it myself; I only have two legs, but you have four legs, and I'm sure that the National Horse Racing Association, or whoever governs this sport, requires (darn them) that their competitors all have four legs. So, Kelly, what do you say?"
Kelly gave me one of his stern looks and simply said "Meow!"
Translation: "You silly man, no, you very very silly man. It has obviously escaped your attention that I am a CAT. True, I have the right number of legs, but I am the wrong species. Besides, I can see through your real reason to race me. You just want to sell my services for stud, but we're screwed there too. You forgot that I am fixed!"
Kelly, being a cat of few words, turned and walked off, tail held high, to the first of numerous daily cat naps.
Oh well! Congratulations, Smarty Jones, on your, um, productive reproductive retirement!
posted by todd gunther | 1:39 AM
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