Beating a Dead Horse, 100 times over

Zippy Chippy is no more.




A racehorse who was famous for never winning crossed the final finish line last week.

Zippy Chippy died Friday at the Old Friends Thoroughbred Farm in Greenfield Center, New York, near Saratoga, where he retired about 12 years ago.

As the story goes, Zippy Chippy was acquired by his owner-trainer, Felix Montserrate, in 1995 in a trade involving a Ford truck.

The dark bay gelding had promise, with a bloodline that included a 1943 Triple Crown winner Count Fleet.

But Zippy never won a single race in his career.

And that became his claim to fame. His obstinate nature made him the sport's most lovable loser. He was banned from competing at several tracks for such antics as refusing to leave the starting gate.

"He was just very content and happy, until you asked him to do something," recalled Old Friends co-owner and manager, Joanne Pepper. "Then he was like, 'No!'"

Although he never entered the winner's circle, Zippy Chippy came close. Of his 100 races, he finished second eight times and came in third place 12 times. He competed several times at Belmont Park and Aqueduct, but mostly ran at smaller tracks.

His second career involved visits to minor league ball parks, fairs, and other venues.

In 2001, Zippy Chippy outran Rochester Red Wings outfielder Darnell McDonald by a length in a race at Frontier Field.

I was at that Red Wings game. It predated this blog by three years and my phone by several more, so I have no evidence of it. I do remember the grounds crew having to work overtime to get the Zippypoo off the outfield grass.

Jon Stewart's Daily Show did a piece on the Zipster soon after his record-breaking loss.  I can't find a video of it, and just as well; it was played for lowball laughs, including graphics of a can of Alpo and a tube of Elmer's Glue as the signs of the horse's future.

His home track was Finger Lakes, the low-minor thoroughbred venue near Rochester. Longtime columnist and radio host Bob Matthews made Zippy's accomplishments (or lack thereof) a regular feature of his efforts, but the humor he found in the situation was never mean and always showed appreciation for how much his owner/trainer loved him and how adored he became as a serial loser.

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Meanwhile, I can totally relate to the love shown by the owner of a dumb animal.

Another cold night, another setup of multiple enticements, and still no sign of the B-Man.  It snowed during the day yesterday, not amounting to anything, much less the late Nor'easter hitting east of here, but it was plenty cold. Eleanor put his homemade cat bed in the garage and stocked more yummies all around.  I woke sometime around 3 a.m. and saw the motion-detector spotlight on over the neighbors' driveway again, so I checked the garage stashes, the trap in the greenhouse, and did the full circuit of the house. No avails.

I posted his picture and info on a local lost pet Facebook group, which has gotten plenty of cares and prayers and the same advice we're already following being repeated multiple times, but no actual sightings.

This is how ridiculous it's gotten: I helped wrangle a loose Corgi around the corner from us while doing a final looky before work. Apparently I can find any stray pet except our own.

Meanwhile, the little shit is sending us postcards:



I was just in there yesterday, bringing our oldest cat Zoey for a checkup. (She's fine for an almost 13-year-old.) The timing of the postcard was one of those gotta-laugh-so-you-don't-cry kinda deals.

I figure the next thing we'll get is one of those movie ransom notes cut out of magazine headlines- and I fully expect he's in on it and will spend the money on the very treats we're leaving out in the garage for him.

Or maybe he'll put a bet down on a slow horse:P