The first horses D.J. ever saw were at Churchill Downs in 1961. I am certain his kinship with horses began on a trip that we took with my Father to the Louisville racetrack.
When my Mother took her Aunt Annie to visit her sister in Miami, Florida, D.J. and I spent two weeks living with my father at his McKay Street home. While they were involved with their Florida sojourns, we were no less enthused with our Kentucky adventures which included a fishing trip to Taylorsville and an equine visit to Central Avenue.
To my Father, placing a bet involved more than scanning a racing form. Before each race we would go down to the Paddock and look at the horses. I was never sure what he was thinking when I saw his eyes move from ears to flanks and from back to hooves, but after a few minutes we would go the betting window. The only time he lost was when there was a photo finish. At that point he would just tear up his ticket as he had a bad luck fortune with photo finishes.
Being an active four year old, D.J. quickly learned the path to take from our bleacher seats down to the Paddock and would run ahead leading us to the viewing area. I was horrified when I saw him round a corner and come face to face with a very large dog. Instead of lunging at the child as I feared would happen, the poor dog did an “Oh my gosh!” shudder and backed away.
There would be many horses and dogs in D.J.’s future but this would be my Father’s last horserace. I am glad we shared this adventure with him.