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Description
Yet ANOTHER race entry I knew I was forgetting. So glad I got this one done on time. I adore it. Definitely my new favorite picture of Simba!

--------------------
Horse: Wesavethebestforlast
Jockey: Dickey Kolt
Stable: Grand Finale
Host: #SeizeTheDayDowns
Event: GI Sevenfold Cup
--------------------

"That horse is fat," Palfrey chuckled insultingly as Dickey lead the golden colt out of the trailer and onto the pavement of the parking lot. It was true though. Simba was getting quite round. And although Dickey wanted to blame it on an out-growth spurt, he knew that the colt was just... getting plump. Even with all of the training that the colt went through daily, he was still managing to develop a hay belly and a thick neck. He didn't look like he was 2 and a half and growing rapidly, but he was. Dickey ignored the comment, refusing to admit that he too recognized the colt's well-rounded physique. He could still run like hell, and that was all that mattered, right?

Pennsylvania was still hot in August, and the sun shone down on Seize The Day Stables without mercy. It gleamed on Simba's broad gold back and threatened to burn his bald face. The colt blinked his wide, blue eyes in the bright sunlight and yawned. This place smelled so fresh and green, his eyes wandered over the pastures and wide open green spaces surrounding him and tugged lightly on his lead for the nearest tuft of lush Pennsylvania grass. Dickey tugged right back, muttering something about weight to the colt who didn't listen at all and began dragging the barely 5' jockey behind him as he walked towards the edge of the parking lot and lowered his duo-toned lips to the cool grass. He breathed in deeply and then snorted as Dickey jerked on his face without any success of lifting the colt's head. Simba began cropping the grass methodically with his powerful jaws as Dickey scolded him and poked him in the shoulder to make him move. The colt swished his tail in annoyance at the man and walked deeper into the grass where he continued to graze.

5 minutes later, when he had finished unloading the tack and feed from the trailer, Palfrey walked over to Dickey and Simba. Dickey's face was flushed from the heat and his frustration, and Simba was half asleep, chomping down grass at a record speed. Palfrey walked up to the pair and snatched the rope from Dickey's hands and yanked up hard on Simba's face while shoving his shoulder with all of his weight. Simba stumbled sideways and lifted his head to keep his balance. Palfrey took advantage of the moment and pushed the colt forward and then began leading him towards the race barn. The colt followed dutifully, only trying to go for grass one more time before being lead into the shady barn.

Once in his thick bedded stall, Simba looked around for his heap of hay that he always got when stalled at a new location. So his surprise, it wasn't anywhere in the stall. 'Hey you! Human. Where's my hay?' he nickered at Palfrey, shoving his head into the chest of the trainer. Palfrey pushed the horse away and exited the stall, closing the door behind himself. Simba came to the front of the stall and pressed his nose between the bars. 'Food, people! Food! You're forgetting my food!' he whinnied, anxious for his routine. The small human came to the front of the stall and poked at the big black top lip that belonged to the colt.
"You're too fat," he told the colt.
'But I neeeeed that hay!' Simba nickered, nipping at the prodding finger.
"Oh be quite, you chunker. You'll live," Dickey chuckled.
'How do you know that?!' Simba groaned, his blue eyes roving around the barn aisle for any sign of food. After a moment he sighed and glanced at Dickey with forlorn eyes. Dickey 'Pfft"ed at him and walked away. Simba flicked his tail in irritation and rested his muzzle on the top of the stall door. He nose slipped and his bottom jaw fell off of the stall door. He licked at the smooth sanded wood. His ears perked up. He continued to lick it until he found himself nibbling at the wood. Soon he was full out chewing the stall door, gnawing away like there was no tomorrow. It tasted pretty good. Not as good as hay, and it was hard to get, but heck, it gave his jaw something to do.

That evening...

"It's your fault because you didn't give him hay!"
"But I only withheld the hay 'cause you said he was fat!"

Palfrey and Dickey stood inside Simba's still inspecting the damage done to the barn that they did not own. Dickey glared at Simba who was moping in the back of the stall. He had been yelled at by the little human whom he thought liked him. The big human yelled at him a lot, but not the little one. He sighed and turned his head to the wall as the two men argued over who's pocket the repair money was going to come from. But soon a cautionary pile of hay was tossed into the stall, and Simba was happy to much away into the night.

Race day

Dickey and Palfrey had established a good, working routine; Dickey cleaned Simba's stall in the mornings, groomed and tacked up the colt, took him onto the track and warmed him up, then Palfrey came out and critiqued everything. Well... At least Palfrey thought it was a good, working routine. Dickey still was not convinced. Simba agreed that this was a good routine though. He preferred Dickey to Palfrey, under any and every circumstance. That routine was what the team followed at every race. Whether Dickey liked it or not, he was out numbered. This morning he had gotten up especially early and was now giving Simba one of his ridiculously long grooming sessions. Dickey no longer had any nerves before races. And if by some strange circumstance he did, he had learned to ignore them fully. The peaceful Pennsylvania day started out with a clear white sky that slowly inked blue as the sun stretched. It was remarkably quiet and still outside, and Simba had settled into a more-asleep-than-awake trance under Dickey's rhythmic brushing.

Dickey loved to get Simba out on the new tracks early in the morning before anyone else had run on them yet. He loved to breath the air as if it was it's freshest possible in the wee hours of the morning. As he climbed up on a pasture fence to hop on Simba's back, Dickey was feeling really good. Despite the stress from the day before, he was feeling calm and cool right now. Simba was lazy in his warm up; the warm Pennsylvania morning was dulling his desire to run. Dickey couldn't get any real speed out of him, so he took him back to the barn just as Palfrey sauntered out to make his morning inspections.

"He's half asleep," Dickey complained, taking an expert leap from the colt's back to the ground.
"Hose him down," Palfrey muttered, covering a yawn.

Dickey did as he was told and untacked Simba before squirting him in the face with ice cold water in one of Seize The Day Stables' wash stalls. Simba shivered in the cold water, his ears pinned back with detest for the hose as Dickey showered him. He hunched up his back and tucked his dripping tail underneath him as Dickey tried to spray his rump. He pulled against the crossties, dying to escape from the cold water that was stimulating every nerve in his body. Dickey finally let up after what seemed like an hour, and scraped the water off of a shivering Simba. He led him out int the sun and began rubbing his legs down with a towel. When Simba was dry enough to re-tack, the saddle was tossed back up on his back, and Dickey mounted again. Simba snorted and pranced sideways. His haunches still shivered a little. Half from the cold that seemed to linger, and half from anxiousness to run.

The second breeze was much better, one that both Dickey and Palfrey could live with. Simba had settled into his normal self. He knew what to do now. He patiently waited in his stall until Dickey and Palfrey re-arrived. It was race time.

Simba entered the gate like the perfect gentleman that he was. The gate closed behind him with a slam, and he didn't flinch. He sat back on his haunches, leaning against the gate. Dickey hated it when he did that. He wanted Simba to be on his feet, ready to run, not lounging in the back of the gate. But Simba was in a zone of his own, one that he invited Dickey t join him in, if the jockey would stop fidgeting with the reins for a moment. Dickey collected Simba up into a wad of energetic horse, and Simba jerked on the bit, hating the restraint. Dickey gripped the reins harder and jerked back on the bit for Simba's attention. Now was not the time to be fighting. The hard jerk did it for Simba. He tugged his head away from the handler and reared up in the gate, nearly smashing his own skull against the bars at the top. Dickey was completely caught off guard and let the reins slip through his fingers.

The bell rang and the gates burst open.

Simba came half way down out of his rear and launched forward out of the gate, his reins flapping loosely against his gleaming neck. Dickey clutched at Simba's mane to prevent falling off and fumbled to collect the reins as he tried to regain his balance. Simba didn't need him though, he was in his own little world. His start had been late. He was the last one out of the gate, but he breezed his way up into the pack where he settled into his rhythmic, steady gallop. Dickey collected the reins but kept them loose. He knew that Palfrey was going to give him hell for what had happened, but right now he didn't care. Right now he was flying across the dirt track on the back of a golden horse.

What more could he ask for?

--------------------

ALL ARTWORK & CHARACTERS © ME, ~walktrotcanter7

Creation Time: Aprox. 7hrs.
Tools: Cardstock paper, Ink pens, Prismacolor pencils.
Pose Reffed from: [link] by =larfsalot (First time I drew a racehorse from not racehorse stock! Woot!)
Notes: I tried yet another new shading method. This time I not only used Simba's coat colors, but also blue, green, red, chestnut, and yellow to highlight and shadow him. idk if it worked. ~CopperdragonArt gave me some super good pointers for shading. I love her art. You should go and look at it. All of it. And fav it. All of it.

Description
Yet ANOTHER race entry I knew I was forgetting. So glad I got this one done on time. I adore it. Definitely my new favorite picture of Simba!

--------------------
Horse: Wesavethebestforlast
Jockey: Dickey Kolt
Stable: Grand Finale
Host: #SeizeTheDayDowns
Event: GI Sevenfold Cup
--------------------

"That horse is fat," Palfrey chuckled insultingly as Dickey lead the golden colt out of the trailer and onto the pavement of the parking lot. It was true though. Simba was getting quite round. And although Dickey wanted to blame it on an out-growth spurt, he knew that the colt was just... getting plump. Even with all of the training that the colt went through daily, he was still managing to develop a hay belly and a thick neck. He didn't look like he was 2 and a half and growing rapidly, but he was. Dickey ignored the comment, refusing to admit that he too recognized the colt's well-rounded physique. He could still run like hell, and that was all that mattered, right?

Pennsylvania was still hot in August, and the sun shone down on Seize The Day Stables without mercy. It gleamed on Simba's broad gold back and threatened to burn his bald face. The colt blinked his wide, blue eyes in the bright sunlight and yawned. This place smelled so fresh and green, his eyes wandered over the pastures and wide open green spaces surrounding him and tugged lightly on his lead for the nearest tuft of lush Pennsylvania grass. Dickey tugged right back, muttering something about weight to the colt who didn't listen at all and began dragging the barely 5' jockey behind him as he walked towards the edge of the parking lot and lowered his duo-toned lips to the cool grass. He breathed in deeply and then snorted as Dickey jerked on his face without any success of lifting the colt's head. Simba began cropping the grass methodically with his powerful jaws as Dickey scolded him and poked him in the shoulder to make him move. The colt swished his tail in annoyance at the man and walked deeper into the grass where he continued to graze.

5 minutes later, when he had finished unloading the tack and feed from the trailer, Palfrey walked over to Dickey and Simba. Dickey's face was flushed from the heat and his frustration, and Simba was half asleep, chomping down grass at a record speed. Palfrey walked up to the pair and snatched the rope from Dickey's hands and yanked up hard on Simba's face while shoving his shoulder with all of his weight. Simba stumbled sideways and lifted his head to keep his balance. Palfrey took advantage of the moment and pushed the colt forward and then began leading him towards the race barn. The colt followed dutifully, only trying to go for grass one more time before being lead into the shady barn.

Once in his thick bedded stall, Simba looked around for his heap of hay that he always got when stalled at a new location. So his surprise, it wasn't anywhere in the stall. 'Hey you! Human. Where's my hay?' he nickered at Palfrey, shoving his head into the chest of the trainer. Palfrey pushed the horse away and exited the stall, closing the door behind himself. Simba came to the front of the stall and pressed his nose between the bars. 'Food, people! Food! You're forgetting my food!' he whinnied, anxious for his routine. The small human came to the front of the stall and poked at the big black top lip that belonged to the colt.
"You're too fat," he told the colt.
'But I neeeeed that hay!' Simba nickered, nipping at the prodding finger.
"Oh be quite, you chunker. You'll live," Dickey chuckled.
'How do you know that?!' Simba groaned, his blue eyes roving around the barn aisle for any sign of food. After a moment he sighed and glanced at Dickey with forlorn eyes. Dickey 'Pfft"ed at him and walked away. Simba flicked his tail in irritation and rested his muzzle on the top of the stall door. He nose slipped and his bottom jaw fell off of the stall door. He licked at the smooth sanded wood. His ears perked up. He continued to lick it until he found himself nibbling at the wood. Soon he was full out chewing the stall door, gnawing away like there was no tomorrow. It tasted pretty good. Not as good as hay, and it was hard to get, but heck, it gave his jaw something to do.

That evening...

"It's your fault because you didn't give him hay!"
"But I only withheld the hay 'cause you said he was fat!"

Palfrey and Dickey stood inside Simba's still inspecting the damage done to the barn that they did not own. Dickey glared at Simba who was moping in the back of the stall. He had been yelled at by the little human whom he thought liked him. The big human yelled at him a lot, but not the little one. He sighed and turned his head to the wall as the two men argued over who's pocket the repair money was going to come from. But soon a cautionary pile of hay was tossed into the stall, and Simba was happy to much away into the night.

Race day

Dickey and Palfrey had established a good, working routine; Dickey cleaned Simba's stall in the mornings, groomed and tacked up the colt, took him onto the track and warmed him up, then Palfrey came out and critiqued everything. Well... At least Palfrey thought it was a good, working routine. Dickey still was not convinced. Simba agreed that this was a good routine though. He preferred Dickey to Palfrey, under any and every circumstance. That routine was what the team followed at every race. Whether Dickey liked it or not, he was out numbered. This morning he had gotten up especially early and was now giving Simba one of his ridiculously long grooming sessions. Dickey no longer had any nerves before races. And if by some strange circumstance he did, he had learned to ignore them fully. The peaceful Pennsylvania day started out with a clear white sky that slowly inked blue as the sun stretched. It was remarkably quiet and still outside, and Simba had settled into a more-asleep-than-awake trance under Dickey's rhythmic brushing.

Dickey loved to get Simba out on the new tracks early in the morning before anyone else had run on them yet. He loved to breath the air as if it was it's freshest possible in the wee hours of the morning. As he climbed up on a pasture fence to hop on Simba's back, Dickey was feeling really good. Despite the stress from the day before, he was feeling calm and cool right now. Simba was lazy in his warm up; the warm Pennsylvania morning was dulling his desire to run. Dickey couldn't get any real speed out of him, so he took him back to the barn just as Palfrey sauntered out to make his morning inspections.

"He's half asleep," Dickey complained, taking an expert leap from the colt's back to the ground.
"Hose him down," Palfrey muttered, covering a yawn.

Dickey did as he was told and untacked Simba before squirting him in the face with ice cold water in one of Seize The Day Stables' wash stalls. Simba shivered in the cold water, his ears pinned back with detest for the hose as Dickey showered him. He hunched up his back and tucked his dripping tail underneath him as Dickey tried to spray his rump. He pulled against the crossties, dying to escape from the cold water that was stimulating every nerve in his body. Dickey finally let up after what seemed like an hour, and scraped the water off of a shivering Simba. He led him out int the sun and began rubbing his legs down with a towel. When Simba was dry enough to re-tack, the saddle was tossed back up on his back, and Dickey mounted again. Simba snorted and pranced sideways. His haunches still shivered a little. Half from the cold that seemed to linger, and half from anxiousness to run.

The second breeze was much better, one that both Dickey and Palfrey could live with. Simba had settled into his normal self. He knew what to do now. He patiently waited in his stall until Dickey and Palfrey re-arrived. It was race time.

Simba entered the gate like the perfect gentleman that he was. The gate closed behind him with a slam, and he didn't flinch. He sat back on his haunches, leaning against the gate. Dickey hated it when he did that. He wanted Simba to be on his feet, ready to run, not lounging in the back of the gate. But Simba was in a zone of his own, one that he invited Dickey t join him in, if the jockey would stop fidgeting with the reins for a moment. Dickey collected Simba up into a wad of energetic horse, and Simba jerked on the bit, hating the restraint. Dickey gripped the reins harder and jerked back on the bit for Simba's attention. Now was not the time to be fighting. The hard jerk did it for Simba. He tugged his head away from the handler and reared up in the gate, nearly smashing his own skull against the bars at the top. Dickey was completely caught off guard and let the reins slip through his fingers.

The bell rang and the gates burst open.

Simba came half way down out of his rear and launched forward out of the gate, his reins flapping loosely against his gleaming neck. Dickey clutched at Simba's mane to prevent falling off and fumbled to collect the reins as he tried to regain his balance. Simba didn't need him though, he was in his own little world. His start had been late. He was the last one out of the gate, but he breezed his way up into the pack where he settled into his rhythmic, steady gallop. Dickey collected the reins but kept them loose. He knew that Palfrey was going to give him hell for what had happened, but right now he didn't care. Right now he was flying across the dirt track on the back of a golden horse.

What more could he ask for?

--------------------

ALL ARTWORK & CHARACTERS © ME, ~walktrotcanter7

Creation Time: Aprox. 7hrs.
Tools: Cardstock paper, Ink pens, Prismacolor pencils.
Pose Reffed from: [link] by =larfsalot (First time I drew a racehorse from not racehorse stock! Woot!)
Notes: I tried yet another new shading method. This time I not only used Simba's coat colors, but also blue, green, red, chestnut, and yellow to highlight and shadow him. idk if it worked. ~CopperdragonArt gave me some super good pointers for shading. I love her art. You should go and look at it. All of it. And fav it. All of it.