My Mate Alfie

Flat racing is supposed to be the safer one – no high fences or low ditches – but I don’t agree. Whenever we’re pushed to work our bodied beyond breaking point so that someone else can reap the rewards, there is danger. What happened to me is evidence of that. 

When they spoke about my death, they say I ‘lost action’, ‘went lame’, and was ‘humanely euthanised’. They spoke about it like these were just unfortunate circumstances. The reality was that these things were done to me; painful, fatal things that were entirely avoidable. I was only 5 years old when I died. 

When you work anyone’s body from infancy to perform difficult tasks, that body bears the toll of that work. I wasn’t yet fully grown when they began forcing me to run – faster and faster and faster every time. What happened to me on the 16th April was the consequence of a short lifetime of being used as a machine. 

The man on my back knew I was hurting and made me continue. He looked down at me from on my back as I struggled and didn’t let me stop. After they killed me at the hospital, he was banned from riding for 8 days. 8 short days in exchange for my life. What’s worse is that he appealed, won, and was free to take part in the big races coming up. 

My life is over now, and it’s racing’s fault. But it’s not too late for the thousands of horses still trapped in the industry. They deserve the life I never got – one of freedom, safety, comfort, and companionship. 

My name was My Mate Alfie. I was someone.