Not just a brag, not just a stepping stone to a higher Title, not just

an adjunct to competitive scores.


A Title is a tribute to the dog that bears it, a way to honour the dog, an

ultimate memorial.  It will remain in the record and in the memory for about ass

long as anything in this world can remain.  Few humans will do as well or

better in that regard.



And though the dog himself doesn't know or care that his achievements

have been noted, a Title says many things in the world of humans, where

such things count. A Title says your dog was intelligent, and adaptable, and

good-natured. It says that your dog loved you enough to do the things that please

you, however crazy they may have sometimes seemed.



And a Title says that you loved your dog, that you loved to spend time

with him because he was a good dog, and that you believed in him enough to

give him yet another chance when he failed, and that in the end your faith

was justified.



A Title proves that your dog inspired you to have the special

relationship enjoyed by so few; that in a world of disposable creatures,

this dog with a Title was greatly loved, and loved greatly in return.



And when that dear short life is over, the Title remains as a memorial

of the finest kind, the best you can give to a deserving friend, volumes

of praise in one small set of initials before or after the name.



A Title is nothing less than love and respect, given and received

permanently.



Author unknown

I think that I shall never see

A dog as natural as a tree, 



For in the ring, what show dog stands

That's shown untouched by human hands? 



A dog with ears erect and tall

That never needed tape at all. 



A dog that gaits and doesn't quit

Without the "double-handling bit". 



A dog with perfect scissors bite

Untouched by dentist in the night. 



A dog that stands on lead so loose

Without his owners' "jingling" ruse. 



A dog that's truly black and tan

Without the aid of Clairol's can. 



A dog with tail that doesn't hook

And wasn't fixed by any crook. 



Dog owners, please, this warning heed,

For show dogs aren't a different breed. 



Those little tricks that cover faults

Can't cover progeny results! 



- Anonymous 

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

The Dog Show From Hell,

  or

Showing Your Own Dog Is Such A Relaxing Hobby!!!

  by Kim Lovewell, BwitchN cresteds

 

(Names have been changed to protect the sheepish!!)

Puppy wasn't scheduled to show until 2:30 on Sunday, one of the last breeds of the day. We left home about 10:30 a.m. Since the state (Arizona) has raised the speed limit on many highways to 75, you can make REALLY good time, even though some of it is true mountain driving. (Dogshowtown is at 7000 feet elevation, Hometown at 1100). So we wait up the road to Dogshowtown and get there early. I figured Puppy and I would have a nice, leisurely warm-up and then saunter over to Ring 8 and watch Mr. Judge for a little while. 

Except that when I parked, I wound up next to a nice gal I know, Charlotte, who shows SmallJapanesedogs. I had noticed in the catalog that she was only showing on Sunday and had entered two dogs and a bitch. 

I was no more than out of the car before she had me cornered, saying desperately, "Would you take one of the boys into the ring for me?

My boyfriend usually helps, but he had company show up and he couldn't come with me today!" So of course I said that I would be glad to help her. Smalljapanesedogs were in Ring 8 just before my breed. I would have time while the males of my breed were in the ring to prepare my female pup and get her into the ring on time. 

An aside here.  Smalljapanesedogs are not my favorite breed. Some of them can be nasty, nippy little beasts, especially males. Charlotte's two boys absolutely DETEST each other! The one she wanted me to deal with is named Something's Sushifujiyamakatsu , known as Bubba. I have always wondered if "Sushifujiyamakatsu" might be Japanese for "Mean Little B-stard". 

Bubba and the other male cannot be allowed near one another or the fur really flies!! To make a long story shorter, after Charlotte had cleared the area, I bent down to take Bubba out of his crate. Before I knew what had happened, he had blasted up against the crate door like a freight train, popped it open, and had taken off running, full overdrive and accelerating!

Have you ever chased a Smalljapanesedog around a high school campus at 7000 feet while TRYING to yell, "Loose dog!"? I hadn't, either, and it will be a cold desert day in July before I try it again, lemme tell you! We did manage to catch him, but by then, he was so tired that all the curl was gone from his tail. Needless to say, he did not win!

I had JUST enough time to hand him off, grab Puppy, and gallop back to Ring 8. As I arrived at the gate, I realized that I was shaking, gasping for  air, and pretty sweaty. Another aside: The Great Smalljapanesedog Chase took place around rings 5,6,7 and 8. It must have looked like one of those old movies where people come charging out of one door, chase each other around for a while, disappear through another door, then show up again through a door they could not logically be coming through because it's on the wrong side of the hallway. Real Abbott and Costello stuff. I know very well that every judge, steward, exhibitor and dog in and near all four rings had a great view of the proceedings and watched with considerable interest. The day's extra event! 

Okay, so I'm not in the best condition I've ever been in, but it's time to show Puppy. As we went into the ring, I discovered that my right leg sort of wasn't working. Mr. Judge says, "Take 'em around". I gave it a shot, but I kept listing to starboard! Puppy looked up at me as if to say, "What's going on, Mom?"   Did I mention that on top of everything else, it was WINDY, and I mean blasts of up to 40 mph. People's canopies and sun umbrellas were taking off like big birds, and even the tents between the rings were frighteningly flappy. Ring 8 and the examining table were set up so that, except for a very brief stretch on the go-around, all that wind was blowing on Puppy's rear and her sensitive little hoo-hah. She was not thrilled. She was also CHILLY, as were the others of her breed and type. 

So we now have this hobbling basket case on one end of the lead and a shivery little dog with her tail clamped down tight over her privates on the other end. Mr. Judge nodded to us when it was our turn for the table. I bent down to pick up Puppy and discovered that my arms were locked at the elbows; I could not seem to bend them! (Muscle waste product toxins or something!) I really didn't know if I could get this seven pound dog up on that table or not. I finally straight-armed her up and just sort of dropped her at the edge. 

I couldn't have stacked her if my life depended on it Mr. Judge gave me a funny look, as if to say, "This is too nice a dog to have a nincompoop like you on the end of the lead. Where's the REAL handler? And why do I feel like I've seen you somewhere before?" I gave him a sickly grin as he very nicely and politely with a twinkle in his eye reached over and positioned one of Puppy's front legs. Then he said, "Take her around," and I tried, but my leg still wasn't working and the wind was blowing harder than ever. 

I think he gave her the blue ribbon because a) he liked her, b) she was nicer than the other entries and c) he wanted to see if there was any more to our act. He was not disappointed. When we returned to the ring for Winners Bitch, he said, "Take 'em around." By then, my leg was okay, but I realized after about three steps that I had another problem. The day before, I had gone all out and worn pantyhose and the whole rig. Of course, when we got home all the dogs went psycho and the panty hose were history. I didn't have another pair of the right color, so on Sunday I just threw on socks and sneakers. 

After those first three steps in the ring, it became obvious to me that the Great Smalljapanesedog Chase had done something to the elastic in my underpants. I don't know if it was body heat, stretching, the altitude, or what, but that elastic had given up the ghost and the panties were headed south. I figured I had two choices: 1) Let 'em drop and risk a) getting tangled and breaking my neck and b) never being able to show my face, much less anything else, in a ring again or 2) clamp my knees together and muddle through. Looking back on it, I should've just let 'em go, but it seemed like a lousy idea at the time, so I clamped the old knees and went around the ring like a demented duck. Once again Puppy looked at me like I had lost my marbles.

The lady who was behind me likes to move her dogs FAST, so I figured she would pass me if she was really unhappy. She didn't. We all ended up in a jumble at the end of the circle. We sorted ourselves out, and Mr. Judge looked us over. He kept glancing at Puppy. I felt he was trying to tell me something....like maybe "Lady, if you can do something to convince me that she deserves it, I would like to acknowledge your dog, because I like her, but YOU are WEIRD!"

WB went to a bitch a bit bigger than Puppy and who, IMHO, doesn't have as nice a head. I forget who took reserve, but it wasn't us. As soon as I stepped out of the ring, people were asking me, "What the h-ll was THAT?" All I could say was, "Not now, I'm too tired." 

I managed to lug dog and equipment back to the car and drive home. When we got to the house, I did something I NEVER do. (Never say never!). I had to pee so bad I though I was gonna die, so I told Puppy I would be right back after I ran to the bathroom. As I shut the car door (having long since clicked onto automatic pilot from fatigue), I realized that I had locked the keys and the dog in the car and I didn't have a spare key. Fortunately, the sun was almost down, it wasn't hot and Puppy had water in her crate. 

I called AAA and a man arrived with a slim-jim and opened the car door. When I scooped Puppy out of her crate to cuddle her and apologize, the guy's eyes bugged right out of his head. "J-sus Chr-st,"he exploded. "How long has she been IN there? All her hair has fallen out!" After I finished having hysterics and explaining that she is a naturally hairless Chinese Crested, I took Puppy inside.  

When I opened the back door to get the dog bowls to feed everyone, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Wallace, the Australian Herding Dog pup we are fostering, had managed to jimmy open my wardrobe cabinet and the entire back yard was festooned with bras and...here we go again....panties. Actually, some of it was PIECES of bras and panties! I cleaned up the wreckage, fed the dogs, crawled into bed and pulled the covers over my head. 

My friend B... says that the panties thing happened to another friend of his. The timing was such that as she swooped up to the judge, presenting her dog, the undies dropped. He gave her Best of Breed. I will have to remember that! And hopefully, Mr. Robert J. Judge will have gone to that big Best in Show in the sky before I ever have to deal with him again! Oh, well. At least everyone was safe and sound at the end of a VERY long day.

And that is why I show dogs...It is such a RELAXING hobby!!!