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.
Meet the “Competition”
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 si
ze 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.
The point, obviously, was the way people went into action when someone else’s dog was in trouble. A dog is a dog is a dog, and the same thing is true of dog lovers.
Chapter 7
Coming
and Going
Many people, depending on the breed they have chosen, use the family car for transportation to and from the shows they attend. That is fine if you have a Boston Terrier, an Affenpinscher, or a Pug, but what about the likes of the Great Dane, Newfoundland, and Irish Wolfhound? More often these exhibitors have a “rig.” It is not exactly clear what a rig actually is or should be except comfortable, safe, and convenient. (Forget miles-to-a-gallon—this is not the economic part.) Minimum wheels would be a station wagon, and it goes up from there—a drag-it-along-behind-you trailer, a pickup truck with a cap, a motor home, a camper, or any customized version of some or all of the above. I have seen dogs arrive in taxis and stretch limousines. One couple I know has a customized motor home that cost more than $165,000. Now, that is a jolly, comfortable rig! No dog should be ashamed to be seen traveling in that style. The trick is to keep your dog from expecting the limo.
They are usually quite willing to consider that their right. That can be the beginning of an attitude problem.
With a few exceptions, people do generally drive something to the shows. The alternatives to the highway are not all that promising: trains are largely impossible; the most likely of the available means is air transport. That can be a terrible idea unless you are prepared to take precautionary steps.
There can be very high risks in flying dogs to shows, or anywhere else, for that matter. If it is a day like that hot one in New Jersey years ago, it is extremely hazardous. A dog crate left on a loading dock with the sun pouring in probably bodes an oft-reported scenario: baggage handlers at the cold-drink machine and one asphyxiated dog in the sun. Cold weather can produce the same result; it is just a little slower. Shipping a dog to the south and southwest from late spring on should be outlawed—or to the northern states in winter. Some airlines won’t accept shipments when the temperatures at the destination are likely to be dangerous. They are right in doing that. A dog in a shipping crate is totally at the mercy of the elements and whoever is in charge. The dog can do nothing to help itself.
Bad baggage placement in the cargo or baggage compartment can suffocate a dog (and that has happened many times), and even if a dog is likely to be terrified by what is happening all around it, the use of tranquilizers is still not advisable. They interfere with the animal’s ability to control its own body temperature. That is something to discuss with a veterinarian.
If you do ship your dog and you are on the same flight—and he isn’t an under-the-seat-in-front-of-you breed—you usually can arrange with the airline to let you check on your friend at any intermediate stops your plane might make. If you are not on the same flight, you should make arrangements for the plane to be met at its destination and your dog properly taken care of by someone who understands dogs. The person should be waiting at the airport when the plane arrives. If you don’t have friends near the destination who can do you this favor, check with a local humane society. They are always in need of funds and might take on the assignment in return for a donation. If that doesn’t work, have your veterinarian check his list and give you the name of a local vet whose kennel help might provide an official greeter—for a price. Anything but sending your very good friend off into the wild blue yonder before all necessary provisions for his comfort and safety have been made. This is a very important issue. Dogs are killed every year because owners overlook the hazards it faces in an oven: an escape-proof box on an extremely hot day.
At least one airline I know of, American, has an “animals on board” check-off box on the preflight checklist. The pilot, copilot, and engineer all know fragile lives are at stake before they start the engines. That helps, or at least it can help.
The problem is that the airlines often do not charge enough to carry animals and have to
hire baggage handlers that are a pebble short of a beach. If it did cost more to ship your dog by air, if there were a special surcharge for animals in transit, shipping them would be safer. In our own case we never flew our animals—not once—we always used a well air-conditioned station wagon or van. The roof rack handled a large wire pen (broken down for shipping) that we could set up in the shade outside the wagon, in which our dogs could enjoy the passing parade. As the sun moved, so did the pen. The dogs were always secure, so we felt secure. The only problem was with our beloved, incredible Yankee, the giant Bloodhound. He was fine with other dogs passing by and doing a little sniffing near his turf—unless it was a Standard Poodle. Then Yankee would become so profoundly agitated and noisy that one of us had to go into the pen with him and get him to settle down. There was something about that “look” that really offended him. I don’t know that he would have harmed another dog if he had the chance, but we decided not to find out. That’s what it is like at the dog show. The exhibitors, judges, stewards, handlers—and the dogs as well—are all personalities unto themselves. They are expected to be.
Chapter 8
Kids, Too
When the happy day comes and a dog is welcomed into the human family pack or circle, there should be something in the arrangement for everyone. In the case of show-quality dogs, for the younger human members, besides companionship and learning firsthand about responsibility, there is a highly competitive sport called Junior Showmanship. The competition is judged solely on the ability and skill of the juniors in handling their dogs, just as they would in the breed ring in a regular conformation show. Having a family interest or hobby in which kids can participate as well as adults is obviously an enormously healthy thing.
Going for the Blue Page 11
