The piece asks "Why should we feel so much grief at the loss of one horse?"
I hadn't felt so much grief, so I wanted to know.
The way I saw it, plenty of noble cattle were slaughtered for t-bones today and I wasn't sad. For that matter, dozens of Iraqi people were blown up at the bazaar this week and I went to work anyway. What's so special about Barbaro that I'm supposed to be wearing sackcloth and ashes?
The Times explains the answer, which is something about how Barbaro was a very athletic horse. And, of course, "It was tragic because of what every horse is."
And what is every horse?
You would have to look a long, long time to find a dishonest or cruel horse. And the odds are that if you did find one, it was made cruel or dishonest by the company it kept with humans. It is no exaggeration to say that nearly every horse — Barbaro included — is pure of heart.
Oh, good thing you qualified that with nearly every horse. I mean, you wouldn't want people thinking the NYT was defending Hitler's horse, or the Four Horses of the Apocalypse (steeds to the Horsemen).
And the statistics about dishonest horses' bad human influences ("odds are") are an indispensable disclaimer for people who are considering entering into business dealings with horses. You wouldn't want to be swindled by that one sneaky horse who's been around people. Make sure that if you're lending money to a horse he hasn't picked up any filthy human vices.
Other than that, I think the NYT has convinced me that every day, in every way, I will strive to become more and more like a horse.
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