Going for the Blue (14 page)

Many dogs exhibit a great deal of enthusiasm and it is a good idea to match your own physical resources—bodily strength and
agility—to the task to which you are putting your dog if you are doing the handling yourself. There can be a lot more to owning
a dog than brushing, trimming, and tossing the odd Frisbee now and then. The enthusiasm a dog shows is a measure of the regard
he has for you. He wants to please you, to be praised and rewarded. As for you, survive it. If you are well suited to arm-wrestle
an Affenpinscher, think twice before availing yourself of a Komondor or a Great Pyrenees.

Jane, a regular at dog shows, had a misadventure that wasn’t the direct outcome of a competition, but it does show the power
dogs can exhibit when they are baited by life itself. And Jane’s mishap did occur at a dog show, after all.

Jane had been successfully showing her champion Bloodhound, Luke, a magnificent slobber-chops moose of a dog. Jane was a stunningly
beautiful woman who always dressed to the nines. There was only one grievous fault in her style—she wore acres and acres of
furs, real ones (a very unfeeling thing to do around dogs, I think, even if they get to keep their furs on their own backsides,
at least in this country). On this particular day, a bright fall day with the trees around the show grounds in Washington,
D.C., showing off their best foliage, Jane was wearing a double-breasted, full-length mink, part of what she thought of, erringly,
as her own best foliage. As lovely as she was, that is how offensive her coat was. Even people who liked her, and most people
did, hissed at her coat. She was oblivious. She just didn’t get it.

If you have never handled a Bloodhound, be advised that performance on the front end of a lead is not generally their strongest
suit. They lunge and pull ferociously, although they are otherwise generally the sweetest of dogs, and I have never known
one of this breed to be anything like ferocious. The point is that they have been bred to lead you, not follow you. After
all, in pursuit of a lost camper, a child, or an escaped desperado, you are not the one out front on all fours sniffing. That
would be patently absurd. One has to be alert. Jane, in all her finery, was not, although she should have known better. Luke
was a fun-loving dog with the strength of a bull and a bear combined.

Something absolutely irresistible crossed paths with Luke’s incredible nose (it is rumored that it was a cat), a nose estimated
to be about two million times as sensitive as our snubby little counterparts. Jane stretched straight out behind Luke like
a kite in a Chinatown parade, making excited little yipping sounds, but she held on to the leash as if releasing it would
plunge her into the depths. (It would have.) Luke bounded off, dragging poor Jane face down behind him, flopping around and
now making helpless little gasping and gurgling sounds. She said something vaguely like
helppppppp
, poor dear.

Right across the show grounds Luke went, never looking back and not minding the dead weight dragging on the ground just a
leash away. He dashed across an area of cement with Jane still grimly holding the lead. By the time Jane was rescued and Luke
arrested in his flight, Jane, staggering to her feet, yelped something about her mink having gone bald. Not only that, having
been unable to control where she was going, she had managed, at the tail end of Luke’s parade, to adorn her shorn coat with
that which one expects to find where hundreds and hundreds of dog are gathered. She and her coat were a dreadful mess. Luke,
as Bloodhounds are likely to do in situations like this, wagged his tail, yawned, and, of course, drooled. No one wished Jane
harm, anything but; however, the folks who were on hand wept not for the fur.

So, there is that consideration: physical limitations on your part. The different breeds have very different styles, and some
are good at some things and not at others. A full day at a dog show, as we suggested earlier, can be tiring, to understate
things to a British degree. Even wee little dogs that can’t turn you into a kite still require carrying and grooming, and
there is also a box of their gear to handle. With grooming table and all, a ten-pound dog can require forty pounds of gear,
while a Great Dane that weighs in at more than one hundred pounds can have all its grooming needs in a first grader’s lunch
box.

While you are planning your dog’s show career, and to ease the burden on your own stamina, you might want to seriously consider
a professional handler. Their fees are reasonable and they can do an awful lot for your dog’s career. (One supposes that paid
handlers can be used in any competition where the AKC does not prohibit them. One normally associates them with conformation
shows, however, not trials.)

If you want to be there for the fun and excitement, by all means tag along. Your dog will be comforted with you near at hand.
Perhaps, since he probably lives with you (ours always did), you can urge him along and give him confidence. His needs are
comparable to those of his human counterparts. We don’t know how or what dogs think, but there is some mechanism in there
that insists that dogs do think and participate with palpable glee. Your presence adds to all of that.

Professional dog handlers who work full-time at the game can provide you with the advice you are going to need if you and
your dog are climbing aboard. They are known to the judges and know which judge is most apt to give your offering a second
and perhaps favorable look. There are those matters of style and taste. People long exposed to the wonder of the dog-show
world can tell you which handlers are best known for which type or group of dogs. If you get a well-known handler, fair or
not, your dog will have an edge in the ring. That is just the way it is. The dog will be shown to advantage, and some judges
hold some professional handlers in such esteem that they are not unwilling to question their own taste in dogs. They know
no handler wants to handle less than wonderful dogs. There are judgment calls there, and lots and lots of skill. A professional
handler raises the ante a bit, but no one shows dogs so they can lose. Ask your breeder; he will know the best handler for
you and the product of his breeding selections.

Who does these things to themselves? Whether it be a conformation show, obedience trial, or field trial, dog shows have been
described as self-inflicted wounds. Millions and millions of people live with and love their dogs, after all, but relatively
few—a few hundreds of thousands—really submerge themselves in so demanding a sport. In case you hadn’t noticed, horsey people
talk mostly about horses and doggy folk can match them any time talking mostly about their dogs. Both species are all-consuming
passions. The human players act as if they were mesmerized by the game. (They are.) It becomes compulsive behavior and an
ongoing lesson in geography, since in the course of a year’s showing an exhibitor will end up in cities he has barely heard
of before. Some of the best-traveled folks around are dog-show enthusiasts. A well-known oral surgeon I know has been invited
to Australia, Hungary, and many other countries to judge the Sporting Group.

There are good people and bad people to gossip about at dog shows; the good people are always referred to by either their
first names or their first and last names run together as if they were all one name. In the case of people you think are bad,
the last name is used. Gossip in the dog world enriches your time on the show grounds or in the arena. Besides brushing, grooming,
and giving your dog exercise, there isn’t a lot to do when you are not actually showing off your companion.

What do dog-show people have in common? First and I hope foremost is their love of dogs. For a small percentage of the people
showing dogs, some kind of hubris comes first, but that is not usually the case. Some show dogs (a small percentage) don’t
even live at home. They live with, sometimes in the kennel of, the handler and never come to know the people who write the
checks. Most show dogs, however, are pets in the finest sense of the word. In those cases where a show dog is a valuable “thing”
and not a true pet, it is usual for it to bond with the handler with whom it spends just about all its time, not its actual
“owner.” It is not unusual for the true owner to give the dog to the handler as a gift when it finishes with its show career.
I will confess it is a form or kind of dog loving that I fail to understand.

Almost universally, dog-show enthusiasts are dog lovers. A second universal characteristic is competitiveness. Winning is
what it is all about. But I asked two ardent dog-show enthusiasts what was in it for them. Why their own deep involvement?
My asking wasn’t the first time they had thought about it.

Fred and Duffy have a whole life of involvements. They raised two daughters; Fred is a doctor with a very prestigious appointment;
they have a lot of friends. They sail on their own boat. Both Fred and Duffy were raised with dogs and truly love them. Somehow,
the dog-show thing moved in on Fred and he began going to shows whenever they were in his part of the world, just for the
fun of watching. Next step, he began stewarding. He kept at it until he was spending half of the weekends in the year at this
nonpaying job, keeping things moving along for the judge. He was learning about dogs and dog breeds at every show he attended—he
still is learning, reads everything that comes his way, and never stops asking questions. He was talking dogs with exhibitors,
judges, and handlers. He looked forward with eager anticipation to his very doggy weekends. Before long, of course, Duffy
was deep into dog shows, too. Together with Connor the Westie, they pursue ribbons and titles weekend after weekend as if
they were the pharaoh’s treasure. Well, in a sense, they are. Anubis, you know.

Then, naturally, Fred had a canine addiction. He and Duffy have shown Old English Sheepdogs and West Highland White Terriers
and are in the constant state of near euphoria that their hobby gives them. They sit at a cocktail reception with their Westie
on Fred’s lap. (The Sheepdog
en
lap would be unthinkable. Not only are they the size of ponies, their face is always wet.)

“Fred,” I asked, “what is it about dog shows? What attracted you in the beginning and what holds you now? You are at one show
or another at least half of all weekends in the year.”

“First, there are the dogs. I love them. They fascinate me. I love to watch them work. Then there are the people.”

“Can you find common denominators that define or at least describe this peculiar form of human animal?”

“They love dogs, too, and we certainly have that in common. I tend to like them, I enjoy their company and their enthusiasm.
Even when we are not showing, I enjoy dogs and dog people. They are usually competitive, they like winning, but most of them
are happy for you when you are winning. It is a generous corner of the world. They understand me and I understand them; we
have so much in common. There is a lot of laughter at dog shows; dog people tend to have a sense of humor. They are usually
hospitable and helpful.

“A novice exhibitor I know was showing an Old English Sheepdog at the beginning of her career. She was initially in way over
her head. A couple of old-timers, real pros, went over to help her, help her increase the chances for a ribbon even though
it was a dog they would soon be in contention with. That is real sportsmanship.

“I remember a case when a real amateur was getting ready to handle her dog in the ring for the first time. She was in a terrible
flap. She had a heavy coat to contend with, and she knew too little about the tricks in the ring, where every trick is vital
to success. Again some old experienced hands chipped in and got both her and her dog settled into the routine. She took a
red ribbon.

“I have made a lot of friends and have met some wonderful people at dog shows. I treasure the whole experience.”

Fred’s points are well taken. There is camaraderie at dog shows and, inevitably, among the dogs themselves. That is a great
combination. Serious complaining or actual fighting is rare. As long as short leashes are used and not allowed to become tangled,
there are times when the dogs get along better than the people.

This “brotherhood” or “sisterhood,” as the case may be, shows itself in many ways. A handler finds himself with a conflict,
two dogs showing at the same time in two different rings. That happens very often.

He hands one of the leads off to another handler who is free for the next class, and he can be satisfied that the dog will
get a good showing. Another handler has his clippers break down and he has a dog to get ready for judgment day—borrowing the
needed equipment, no problem. Cooperation is expected in picking up a dog to take to the show or dropping it off after the
show, depending on load and timing, and that can save the dog’s actual handler literally hundreds of miles of driving. The
next time it will be his turn to pitch in and help.

There are just plain bad or stupid people in every field, and unfortunately dog shows are not the exception. Some years ago
in New Jersey, it was a blisteringly hot day—really too hot for a show but, of course, the show went on as scheduled.

There were a number of cases of heatstroke (dogs
and
people). Some of each ended up in ambulances. One exhibitor or visitor locked his Boxer in his car without leaving the windows
ajar. If he had left them wide open it probably wouldn’t have been sufficient. A group of people gathered around the car and
tried to get the doors open. No luck. One woman headed off to get the jack handle from her car; the idea of smashing the windshield
had universal approval. A man ran over to the announcer’s table and grabbed the microphone.

“Whoever the idiot is who locked a Boxer in a blue station wagon with Pennsylvania plates, your dog is nearly dead and you
are about to lose all the glass in your wagon.”

I don’t know which thought galvanized the dog’s owner, the severely distressed dog or the imagined sound of tinkling glass,
but a very shaky-looking man had to run the gauntlet to get to his car. There was a lot of name calling as he passed clusters
of dog lovers, trying his best not to make eye contact with the gathered witnesses. He was told to leave the show grounds.