OPEN POST: The Sunday Roast featuring Jack Russell Terrier Racing
Getty Ah, Autumn. There's a nip in the air, and probably in the pocket of the tweed jacket belonging to the stout gentleman with the field glasses. The sun beats down, melting the frost on the turf. The women are in silk headscarves, breeches, and puffer vests for once, athleisurewear of the last century, And we're all ready for the action to begin. It could be a steeplechase, or it could be a flat race, but the excitement is always the same. The sleek, powerful beasts are in the starting gate. The crowd holds its breath. THEY'RE OFF! Horses? Who said anything about horses? I'm all about the Jack Russells, spunky little dogs who will tear your arm off if you try and stop them (which is why the people who catch them at the end wear the same kind of gloves as people who handle eagles, no lie). They are a wee titch excitable on race day (and every other day) and that's why the racing rules include muzzles these days. Bred as rat-catchers, these pups never shy a...