Today, I might have killed a horse. Or at least helped to kill the poor thing.
I went to my friend Eric's Derby party. I hadn't been planning to make any bets beyond the pseudo-bet of paying $5 and drawing a horse out of an envelope. I got Anak Kara or something like that. I think it's still running.
But then LaptopGirl and I made an arrangement. I would bet her favorite horses and then split any winnings with her.
This betting frenzy, apparently, spurred BadPickleGirl's interest, and so she ended up placing her own bet.
She bet the filly. The only filly in the thing. The filly that came in second. The filly that, immediately after the race, broke both its front ankles, collapsed on the track, and was euthanized.
Anyway, while I mostly rooted for LaptopGirl's (and therefore my) horses, I also found myself silently rooting for BadPickleGirl's horse.
Maybe, I think, if I hadn't rooted for the filly, maybe it wouldn't have run so hard. And then, maybe, it wouldn't have broken its ankles and had to be put down.
I'm not saying its all my fault. That would be silly. But I bet it's at least partly my fault.
Also, there seems to be a pattern lately of horses breaking their legs while running. Maybe it's a conspiracy. Somebody should look into this.
I'd look into it myself, but I'm too busy right now trying to figure out why I just wasted 120 minutes of my life.