Heather, the youngest of my three dogs, is "show quality." I am coming to
realize this means not so much that she is free of faults that would
disqualify her in the dog-show ring, but rather that she lives with
someone foolish enough to think dragging her to dog shows a couple of
weekends a month is a fabulous idea.
Dog shows are a curious business.
Although I have been to hundreds of them (along with cat, bird and even
rabbit shows), and have many friends who compete, Heather is the first of
my dogs I've ever shown. Her breeding is impeccable, her personality
sparkling -- and her tail carried a little high for her breed. On such
small distinctions show careers are made -- or not.
Still, it's a minor fault, that tail,
so the weekends now find me at fairgrounds throughout the region with
hundreds of other people, their dogs and their dreams.
What a bunch of crazies dog-show people
are! We drive for hours to spend five minutes in the ring. We sometimes
collect ribbons (which we don't care about) and points toward a
championship (which we do care about). We know all the hotels that take
dogs, and how best to pack our minivans with crates, grooming tables and
all the other tools of the game. We drink weak (or burned) coffee and eat
stale doughnuts, both overpriced and usually sold by sweet-faced 4H-ers,
and we celebrate or console ourselves by pulling out our credit cards at
the vendors who tempt us at every show.
This fall, young Heather has picked up
two points toward her championship (she needs 15). Meanwhile, I have
picked up more canine-related merchandise than I ever realized I "needed"
-- dog beds, new leashes, figurines, treats, toys, and even one thing for
me: a folding chair, because there's never any place to sit at these
places.
For the good of my bank account, I am
grateful that Heather, a flat-coated retriever, is of a breed rare enough
that most of the breed-specific gear -- "I love my Boxer" T-shirts, beagle
wind chimes and so on -- isn't available. That alone has saved me a
hundred dollars, at least. Which is, coincidentally, enough to afford
another show weekend.
Mind you, I am a little fish in these
waters. People who have done this longer and far more seriously than I
spend thousands of dollars competing for those points and for even higher
honors for the already established champions, such as a Best of Breed or
Best in Show win. Some of their motor homes crowd the parking lot, while
others belong to the really big guns of the sport, the professional
handlers. We're all in this game together, the unknowns like me showing
the dog who spends her nights on my bed and the professionals who handle
for others, traveling the country every weekend with dogs who see as much
of the road as a long-haul trucker.
There's skill, intrigue, politics and
even cheating at dog shows, to be sure, but there are also wonderful
people united by love and respect for dogs and a sincere desire to
preserve and improve the dozens of dog breeds recognized by the American
Kennel Club or other show-governing body.
I'm not really sure why I like showing.
The winning is nice, I suppose, but we haven't won enough to really know.
For me, I think it's about being with dogs, and the people who love them,
and nowhere will you find more of both than at a dog show.
By Gina
Spadafori
Pet
Columnist |
