As requested by Nicki Tuyls OConnor we will call this story The Weekend of Glamour.... the Reality of the Dog Show Experience - Part 1 When talking about spending my weekends at dogs shows, I often get the feeling that some of my non dog show friends have a different impression of these glamorous trips. When watching the televised Group competitions for Westminster, everyone is in suits and skirts, makeup perfect, not a hair out of place, and not a single hair on their clothes. The dogs all sit happily on their grooming tables or lounging in their proud owners laps, perfectly groomed and smelling of perfumed coat conditioners. The crowd watches excitedly in outfits and hats that racehorse owners on Derby Day would be proud of, sipping martinis and champagne. When the placings are announced, everyone happily congratulates the winner, owners and handlers are crying happy tears, the dogs appear to be smiling from ear to ear, champagne flows and very classy parties commence. Um, sure, thats reality. Oh goodness, where do I start? Lets start from the beginning with a simple weekend show. The glamor begins several days before the show with touching up the nails with a dremmel and breathing in that sweet toenail dust. And yes, it smells (and occasionally tastes) just like you would expect toenails that have repeatedly walked through urine and feces to smell. Then comes the brushing and clipping of the coat. We can all imagine its cute and musical just like that scene from the Wizard of Oz when they are grooming the Cowardly Lion, but ummm.... no. For starters, its not until you get half way through that you remember your grooming shirt or apron that is supposed to protect your clothes from the hair. By then its too late, the flying hair and dander has coated your face, your clothes, and has worked its way down into your bra, spurring some embarrassing itching and scratching in front of the window where you forgot to pull the blinds. Your neighbors already thought you were that crazy dog lady, but now theyre certain you have an embarrassing rash. And lets not forget that by the time you have bathed your third dog, youre having your own private dog-hairy, paw-printed, just plain gross wet t-shirt contest. Oh yeah, still need to close those blinds. So, weve spent our Friday evening packing, loading the car, arranging crates, loading dogs, and dragging our poor little junior handler into the car at 2 am. Guzzle a disgusting 5 hour energy drink and were off to the show! 30 minutes into a 5 hour drive, our little junior handler is hungry and wide awake. Okay, so we havent even gotten out of town yet, but we find a 24 hour McDonalds and grab just enough food to make us sick to our stomachs for the remaining 4 1/2 hours. One hour into the drive a dog pukes. Our little junior handler squeals in terror as the puke slowly oozes towards them, across the blanket, through the crate door, and towards their McDonalds Cinna-bites. After a quick trip to the side of the freeway, I emerge victorious with WalMart baggie full of kibble-slime and paper towels. Well just stash that bag and the pukie blanket in the trunk.... it shouldnt smell too bad. Did I forget to mention that the dogs are farting about every 15 minutes in this very confined and unventilated space? So puke smell, fart smells, and only 4 more hours to go. Three hours into the drive and the dogs have decided they need to go to the bathroom. So in the dim light and chilly air, you venture out with doggie bags in one hand, leashes in the other. Now Im not saying time stands still when you are waiting for a dog to do their business when the only urgency they feel is making sure they sniff EVERY turd and pee spot at the rest stop, but lets just say its like waiting for hair to grow. Twenty minutes later, Im marching across the parking lot with loaded doggie doo bags in hand, dangling in the wind. Okay, only an hour to go. Oh phew, crack the windows again. Next time.... Part 2... The show grounds and all their glamorous glory!
Posted on: Tue, 26 Nov 2013 05:10:55 +0000
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