​Registered Name: Don't Tell Dad

Born in Iowa on May 16, 2006

Sired by Out Of Place Out of Dream The Blues by Cure The Blues

Hello, My name is Don’t Tell Dad, but here at Unbridled Sanctuary, they call me DiDi. I was born on a warm spring day—May 15, 2006—in the heart of Iowa. From the moment I took my first breath, the path laid out before me was one of speed and competition. My days as a young filly were filled with the rhythms of training, the intensity of the track, and the rush of the wind as I sprinted down the stretch. I became good at it, too, earning over $100,000 across seven long years of racing. 

Yet, despite all the success and the cheers that followed me, there was something missing, something I didn’t quite understand at the time. My days were dictated by others—what I ate, where I ran, when I rested. My life was defined by the numbers on a betting sheet and the hopes of those who stood to gain from my success. I wasn’t unhappy, but I wasn’t free either.

After the races, I was moved from the midwest to 756 Farm with the idea that I would be bred to pass on my legacy. But life had other plans. The farm fell into hardship, and my future, once mapped out so clearly, became uncertain. We had no shelter, and I can still remember those bitterly cold nights when the winter winds would cut right through me, freezing me to the bone. We were left to huddle together, trying to find some small comfort in each other’s warmth. But it was never enough. Hunger gnawed at our insides, and the cold seemed endless.

Things took a turn for the worse when I suffered a puncture wound to my hoof—my back hoof. It was deep, and it hurt terribly. I tried to keep it clean, but you can imagine how hard it was to reach. The wound festered, and I could feel the pain with every step. The longer it went untreated, the worse it got, and I feared that I might never be free from the pain.

Eventually, the farm went out of business, and I found myself being loaded onto a trailer and sent to the Unadilla Auction. I didn’t know it at the time, but that trip would change my life forever.

The auction was loud and chaotic, filled with the anxious whinnies of horses and the shouts of bidders. I stood quietly, trying to make sense of it all. The scent of fear hung heavy in the air, and I could feel the uncertainty in every horse around me. When it was my turn, I was led into the ring, the bright lights glaring down on me. The auctioneer’s voice echoed in my ears as people sized me up, and I began to understand that my fate was hanging in the balance. I was scared, but I tried not to show it. I wasn’t sure what would happen next—only that it would be out of my control.

But then, after the chaos of the auction faded, I found myself at a farm where gentle hands and kind voices replaced the harsh sounds of bidding. Yet, amidst this newfound peace, my heart ached. The desperate whinnies of my friends at the auction still echoed in my mind, a haunting reminder of those I'd left behind. As I gazed at the unfamiliar faces and took in my new surroundings, a mix of hope and trepidation filled me. What plans did these humans have for me? Would this new chapter bring the freedom and care I'd longed for, or was it just another uncertain step in my journey?

Arriving at Unbridled Sanctuary was like stepping into a dream. The quiet serenity of open fields and the warmth of kind hands. The fears of whether or not I would be fed were also gone. Here, I was given something I hadn’t had in what felt like a lifetime: my very own stall. It was a space that was mine, where I could finally rest and be protected from the elements. The comfort of thick bedding beneath me, the security of four sturdy walls, and the plentiful supply of hay and grain—these were things I had once taken for granted but now cherished more than anything.

But despite all the comfort, my hoof wound just wouldn’t heal. The veterinarians and the caring comfort team at Unbridled tried everything to help me feel better, but nothing seemed to work. The pain lingered, and it made it hard to enjoy the newfound peace around me. Then one day, I was taken away. I was nervous. I didn’t know where I was going, but I trusted the people who had shown me so much kindness.

They brought me to a place called Rhinebeck Equine, a big hospital where I met a gentle and kind surgical team. They spoke to me sweetly and reassured me as they prepared me for surgery. I remember the moment they laid me down to sleep—it was the first time in so long that I felt truly at ease. They took care of that terrible wound, which had gone all the way through my hoof and up into my lower leg. When I woke up, the pain that had plagued me for so long was finally gone. It doesn’t bother me anymore, and I’m so thankful for the loving care that saved my hoof and, in many ways, my spirit.

Here at Unbridled, I’ve formed deep bonds with my new herd, a group of six who have become like family to me. There’s FiVe, who is still grieving the loss of her best friend Velvet, and I’ve taken it upon myself to be there for her. I understand loss, and I want her to know she’s not alone. Then there’s Ripple, who is nearly blind. Zelda and I make sure she feels safe and secure, guiding her and offering comfort whenever she needs it. And of course, there’s Honeybear and Lucky—each one of us has our own story, our own past, but together, we’ve found peace.

As I look to the future, I dream of finding a sponsor—a kind human who understands my journey and wants to walk alongside me as I continue to heal and grow. Sponsoring me isn’t just about providing for my needs; it’s about becoming a part of my story, a story of hope, resilience, and renewal.

So, I invite you to consider becoming a part of my journey. Your support can make all the difference in my life and in the lives of other horses here at Unbridled. We all deserve to be loved, respected, and given the dignity we were born with. Thank you for taking the time to listen to my story.

smoozzles, DiDi ❤️