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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 13, Issue 6 (September 1, 1938)

A Rodeo Uncle

A Rodeo Uncle.

It must feel good to be owned by a racehorse; to be venerated by the punting public as the repository of strange secrets; to see disciples of the “divvy” go into a mystery huddle when you pass. To be approached respectfully by gleaners of knowledge and students of form for the low-down on his horseship's uptake. It must be pleasant to have it reported that you were seen to smack your jockey on the back at Riccarton, to smack him behind the ear at Trentham, to smile at Avondale, to kick the stable-boy on the shins at Ellerslie. Such acts, translated to the language of yeas and neighs, mean much to the mystery men of Mokedom. The owner's face is the mirror of his horse's aspirations, respirations and complications. A spot of spavin, a bout of gout, a hint of glanders or broncoitis, reduces the owner's face to such a sorry state that if you saw him and the horse together you'd scarcely know them apart—if the horse wore a hat, too. On the other hoof, if the horse neighs merrily in his bath, tosses his nosebag like an Italian expert undergoing a meal of spaghetti, and behaves
“ Scoop up his fair share of galloping-fuel without getting hiccoughs and giving his jockey the jumps.”

“ Scoop up his fair share of galloping-fuel without getting hiccoughs and giving his jockey the jumps.”

like a horse who has all his mind on all his feet, the owner is hard put to it to resist crying it aloud amongst the wool-brokers. But he knows he mustn't; he knows that as a horse's spirits go up so the odds come down. This is one of the penalties of being a racehorse's rodeo uncle.

Nevertheless I crave to own a racehorse, to travel round the country with him, sharing his hopes and joys during the day, and his blanket during the night; to feel him snuggling up against my back. There's a kick in that. To lie in the straw with him and amuse him by picking up his hoofs and saying: “This little horsey went to Newmarket, this little horsey stayed in bed, this little horsey had a roast oat, and this little horsey won by a head.”