Barbaro is more than just a horse to many

The cards and letters keep coming, enough to fill stables. Flowers, too – especially roses. Well-wishers drive out of their way to visit. Faith healers call. Schoolchildren send drawings.

The patient can’t acknowledge the outpouring of affection. Nor is he aware of a nation’s concern. He is, after all, a horse.

But Barbaro isn’t just any horse. He was the Triple Crown favorite who broke down after bolting from the Preakness starting gate. Millions watched as his right hind leg buckled and cracked, then hung on a hinge of tissue, dangling grotesquely as jockey Edgar Prado pulled him to a stop.

These 1,200-pound thoroughbreds are so powerful, yet their legs are as delicate as the stems of wine glasses.

Now, Barbaro cannot do the one thing he was born to do – run. It is his immobility that could kill him. The casts and confinement are causing a chain reaction of infection.

He is fighting for his life. So why has Barbaro’s heart captivated so many? He is, after all, a horse.

At first, it was thought Barbaro would have to be put down, euthanized like the filly Ruffian was in 1975. But after surgery to insert a plate and 27 screws, he was given a 50 percent chance of survival.

Seven weeks later come the complications Barbaro’s veterinarian feared. Dr. Dean Richardson removed 80 percent of Barbaro’s left hind hoof to treat acute laminitis caused by Barbaro putting too much weight on his good leg. It could be months before Barbaro is out of the woods. Or it could be days until his pain is too severe to manage.

Racing fans and people who know nothing about the sport have been riveted by Barbaro’s plight and follow every update out of Pennsylvania.

Barbaro is, after all, a horse. Why the tears shed on his behalf?

He is a hero unencumbered by human flaws. At a time when so many of the people we look up to let us down, Barbaro doesn’t lie, cheat or manipulate. In a world boiling with hate and revenge, he’s not cruel, greedy or power-mad. After he won the Kentucky Derby, he was happy to receive pats on the neck and extra oats. He gives unconditional love.

Who hasn’t adored a pet and the pet’s unflagging optimism? Who hasn’t fantasized about riding a horse, either off into the sunset like John Wayne or across the finish line like Pat Day?

Race horses aren’t bred to be cuddly creatures. They’re not as smart as Lassie. But there’s something about their majesty and the “brightness in the eyes” that Richardson checks for in Barbaro that makes them idealized objects of affection.

Barbaro is like a bird without wings. He’s hobbling or harnessed in a giant sling, caught in a race for his life.