Siberian Star

They called me Siberian Star. They called me a ‘racehorse’, and for the 10 years I was alive, that was all I was allowed to do: race. 

My job was always to run as fast as I could and jump over what was in the way. If I wasn’t fast enough, they would let me know with a whip – a hard slap to the side of my leg with a stiff object. For 6 years I was passed from person to person who would sit on me and control my head with ropes as I was made to run and jump. All of them would hit me. 

There is supposed to be a limit on the number of times they can hit me: 6 times on a flat course, and 7 on one with jumps. I’d rather they didn’t hit me at all, but they break even their own rules all the time. Last year one of the men who rode me, Shane Fenelon, broke the rules in two different races and whipped me more than that. His only punishment was a four-day suspension. I had to live with the burning pain in my side from his abuse. 

I was 10 years old when I died at Cartmel Racecourse on 26th May. I was ‘pulled up’ which means any bets placed on me are lost. I lost more than a bet at the races; I lost my life. 

My name was Siberian Star. I was someone.