The Rookie Racehorse

Childhood
"Hey! Dad, Mom, watch this!" I called, and galloped into the middle of the field. I whinnied and proceeded to do all the tricks I had made up, praying and hoping for my parents' attention. I bucked, I reared, I rolled, I played. I even showed them how high I could jump! I cheered and turned to my parents with the biggest, brightest grin I could muster, only to find that they hadn't been paying attention. "Mom...Dad...? Didjya see?"

My father turned to look at me for a second. "Yeah, that's great, kid." And he and my mother trotted away. I looked down and whispered to myself.

"You weren't watching..." I sighed and walked away back into the barn. I entered my messy stall and flopped down on my lazily made hay-bed and buried my muzzle in the raggedy objects I called my pillow and blanket. I looked at my sloppy drawings of famous race horses I had pinned to the wall and sighed. "I'll never be a racer. My parents will pay attention to me, let alone train me."