Best In Show

Having recently become a bit of a “Dog Fancier” I, and the object of my canine affection, Scruffy the Mini Schnauzer pup, went for a peek at a dog show that was held here a few weeks back.

I had actually forgotten the show was on, until halfway through our morning walk and so (resplendent in daggy track pants and bed-hair) decided on a little walkies diversion so that Scruffy and I could see how the ‘other half’ (i.e. dogs with manners and cute hair styles) live.

We were very impressed too. Fluffy Pomeranians and elegant Afghans, sleek Rottweilers and cute Malteses, adorable Shar Peis and handsome Dobermans all marching around the ring or patiently enduring another grooming -- or reclining, bored, in their shaded crates.

Their owners, mostly smartly-coiffed women, paraded with them in the ring. It struck me as a little odd that these ladies would wear business suits in a dog ring but, then again, I guess dog breeding is very serious business and they figure they must do whatever they can to improve the overall picture for the judges. Either that or they are living in a corporate 90’s timewarp.

Anyhow, Scruff and I innocently parked ourselves not far from the entrance to Show Ring 1 and settled down to watch proceedings. All was going well: Scruff was fascinated but well behaved. Then a couple of huge ‘blue’ dogs (I have no idea what breed they were; sort of a cross between a fat blue Labrador and a St Bernard) made their way to the Show Ring entrance, waiting for their turn. These dogs were twenty times the size of Scruff; big powerful, but gentle-looking dogs. One of them noticed Scruff and pulled towards him to say hello.

“Ruf!” squeaked little Scruff in delighted approval.

“Don’t you DARE!” shrieked Fat Blue Boy’s Prada-Coiffed Handler, glaring at Scruff indignantly as if he was about to leap upon her precious mutt and tear him limb from limb!

She must have noticed the surprised look on my face, because she suddenly forced a quick ‘smile’ before turning her attention back to Fat Boy. (Presumably this was some kind of apology for being a vicious puppy hater).

Anyhow, Scruff and I decided we’d had enough so we wandered off in search of a fellow Miniature Schnauzer fancier. We soon found a lady grooming her hairy-faced boy, and stopped for a chat.

“Are you going to do something about his ears?” she asked looking disapprovingly at Scruff.

“Why?” I asked, “What’s wrong with his ears?”

She advised me that Schnauzer ears are supposed to fold forward. Scruffy’s point up and outwards (kinda like the ‘Flying Nun’ — for those of you old enough to remember her). Her advice was to tape a five cent piece to each ear, then tape his ears to his head. God knows for how long! I was too taken aback to actually ask.

“I don’t intend to show him or anything,” I said -- probably irrelevantly, because clearly Flying Nun Boy was never going to be a serious contender.

She kindly went on to give me some advice on grooming and maintaining the Schnauzers, and informed me that her dogs are never allowed to get fully wet as it ‘softens’ the coat (apparently this is an undesirable outcome in Schnauzer Land).

“So they never get to have a swim?” I asked in disbelief.

“Never,” she confirmed.

“Phew, Scruff!” I said as we made a hasty exit from the strange world of dog showing. “I’ll bet you’re glad you’ve got ME as your Mum and not THAT lady!”

“My fur coat!” agreed Scruff as he steered me towards the river for a quick dip and a roll in the dirt. “My furrrr coat!”