The card in England’s Plumpton Racecourse includes a ten-strong Shetland Pony Champion Hurdle, on which the Tote runs a special pool as part of their between-races entertainment. There’s the Shetland Grand National – only the most nauseatingly adorable thing I’ve seen in my whole life. A miniature steeplechase on stout, furry little legs, streaking forward from the starting line at the annual London International Olympia horse show. The ponies are paraded around before the race, and there’s a commentator and pretend bookmakers. When the race begins, the chunky monkeys gallop at top speed, leaping over two-foot steeplechase fences. The little riders  – boys and girls age 9 – 13 under 5 feet tall and donning candy colored jockey silks – have to work to qualify for a coveted place among the 10 runners in the race, through a year of competing in riding disciplines like jumping, eventing, dressage and controlling their ponies at top speeds. It’s a huge honor to qualify for the race. The Shetland Pony Grand National is – naturally –  a big crowd-pleaser,  televised to much media attention every year. The British love racing, both on the flat and over jumps and they love their fuzzy-wuzzy, native ponies.

I want it.