My name is Duchess
Strictly speaking "La Grande-Duchesse" but Reon never got to (try to) say it which pisses Kurt off a lot for some reason I don't quite understand.
I'm the daughter of Gwen .. Remember Gwen? .. The little black Robinson lady who did great things around Trentham (until they threw a bloody crossing thing in front of her when she wasn't looking, well that's how SHE tells the story) and who stopped Gee a Maiden from getting a win after twenty something seconds? She's still black and bonny, my one-win, everso-well-bred mum, but she's a wee bit wrinkled now (I mean, she's NINE!) ... showing her age… Not like me. I'm gorgeous.
I'm also the first horse Kurt ever bred, so I've been spoiled rotten all the four years of my little life. First by Rachel and Gary and then by Kurt himself. And don't think I haven't enjoyed it. Chuckle. It's all right. Kurt? I can control him.
Oh I suppose I should mention that my daddy (whom I've never ever met, the usual old story doubtless, did a runner before I was born) was a chap called Sundon. I've heard people say that this is why I am what they call "such a handful". I'm not sure whether they mean his doing a runner, or just him being Sundon.
I don't know what it means being a handful, either. It must mean that I like to go fast. But that's me, I just like to run. Fast. I'm not mad keen on walking, but I love to run. Fast. Faster the better. It's good when Kurt has one of those things they call a "lead" hanging from my chin. If you tug really hard and suddenly, he ends up on the ground and I get a jolly good munch of grass while he's getting up and, with any luck, if I time it right, a run as well. Fast. Good game. And when Kurt gets up and chases me and ALMOST catches me, I run a little more. Walk? Why? Walking is for packhorses.
And, heck, I'm a racehorse. And racehorses are SUPPOSED to run. When Kurt first put one of those carts on me, I was a bit off put, so off put I forgot to object for MONTHS, but second time in I knew what was up and, hey! I was in my element. He got into the sulky and whee! Off we went. Fast! It was GREAT! I'm not quite sure what the comment I heard afterwards was supposed to mean: "she does her fast work before her warm up". I just dragged Kurt back to the paddock and had a good pant and some more grass. Fast, yeah!
I don't know why, but after that Kurt didn't drive me any more. I had Wendy. And Wendy wouldn't let me go fast. That was boring. And I let her know it. It wasn't fair. I wanted to go like a rocket and I wasn't allowed. And damn it, I couldn't control HER. But I tried. Oh yes I tried. I mean, I'm a racehorse and I wanna go FAST!
Then one day a big truck came. And I was shipped away to the depths of a place called Banks Peninsula. No Kurt, no Wendy. A new man in my life. Murray. Nice bloke. But he had this same mania for wanting to make me WALK. We did some strange things. Trotting up and down roads, would you believe. Not mad about that. So I backed him into a gorse hedge. But that didn't stop him. Men! Then after a while we went on to a real race track. OK. This was my thing. But we had to go through some rotten places to get there. WALK through some rotten places. I mean I do object to being taken through a Car Park. At 1 mile an hour. So I thought I'd let him know. Next time he took me there, I said "well mate if you want slow, you get slow". And I sat down. It's quite hard to sit down with a sulky and a big tall man attached to your rear end, but I did it. Point made, right?
And guess what! The big truck came back. Next thing I'm back home with Kurt and Wendy and mum and Davey Crockett and Master Ado and Wee Tree (Weet and I grew up together as dorm mates and I bully her a lot .. its great fun). But after that no-one came to get me to have a run. And to be honest, before long, I felt kind of bored. Well, I bore easily. Heck, nothing better to do but lead all the paddockmates on frequent hoons around the five acres. I hoon brilliantly.
And then one day, at last, Kurt came to get me. Yippeee. Fun coming. He took me down to the barn. Cart time? Nope. Just a nice brush and shampoo and one of those foul wormer things which I spat all over the place.
Nyaaah! No run! Blow that for a joke. I'll show him. Hehe. On the way back to the paddock I did my gotcha bit. Cool, cool and then .. Whoops! Off we go, Kurt hits the ground and ... arrr dammit he didn't lose the lead. Ouch! He HIT me! He never hits me. No-one is allowed to hit the Duchess! He HIT me! And what's this he's saying?
"OK. That's it. She's not going back to Murray. Its turkey baster time."
Next thing I was back in the five acre. But I didn't have my nice expensive fur coat on. And I didn't get any yummy hard feed. And no-one EVER came to put the cart on me. I had to content myself with bossing Weet and Ado (you can't boss mum, and certainly not Mr Crockett, dammit) and I was MEGA-BORED. And all the visitors, when there were visitors, were for someone else. I mean Crockett and Dodo Ado got CARROTS, but I was being IGNORED.
Then, at last, this week the visit was for Me. Me me me me me! Kurt came with a lead. And some other people. The other people took Weet away. She doesn't play up, silly soft cow, she just lets them boss her about. So those other people were all over her. Not ME. Her. So I thought I might as well go without fuss too and see what happened. I mean ANYTHING is more interesting than life with Dodo Ado, grumpy Davey and I'm too big a girl to still be living with mother. So, as I say, I didn't play up too much. Just enough to let them know that I can if I want.
And, what? ANOTHER big truck. OK,where to this time? Murray..? Pleeeeeze, I won't flop in the Mot carpark again.... Please let it be Murray...
I know about men. I mean Ive spent the last couple of months in a paddock with grumpy Davey and drippy Dodo. This is different? Well, all I can say is I hope its a man who likes to go FAST.
A what? A Continentalman? Sounds kinda sexy.OK. I'll get on the truck. (Look how amazed Kurt and Wendy look as I jump on with no aggro, alongside Weet) A Continentalman eh?HmmmI'll report back later.
This could be fun.
A virgin? What's a virgin?
For the meanwhile
Kurt's 2014 comments: Well, Duchess had a beautiful baby boy THE SOLDIER FRITZ by Continentalman, and since she liked foreigners so much we sent her to the French sire LOVE YOU. Results: glorious-looking foals with (so far) only one win amongst them.
And now that I'm running down my horse interests, and will breed no more ... Duchess has to go. After 12 years at Gerolstein she's off next week to live with Karina ... One more BIG TRUCK .. I will miss you Duchess ... Gerolstein (named for you) will never be the same without you. Have lots more lovely babies ..
and stop writing for the press, OK? That's my job!