Championship

As I watched the dogs go first in the puppy class.  They bounced all over the ring wanting to run on the leash or play with the other puppies instead of walking at the normal pace.  I felt so much better and told myself this was just a “puppy thing” and that the instructors from our puppy school were way too serious. This was merely meant to be a fun thing for Vixen and me. 

The border terrier community is very supportive. I had already met a few folks through Teri and felt right at ease with them. They are a down to earth group, much like the dogs themselves. Very unpretentious and genuinely friendly souls they are.  They would freely give advice if asked, but only if asked.  It was wonderful.  

Thankfully, they also let me know when I was to go into the ring.  There are different “classes” for judging and then the winners of each class compete as they narrow down the field to the ultimate, “best of breed” title is awarded. I don’t think I ever did get the order right, but, thanks to the border terrier community, I never missed being in the ring when I was supposed to be.

I learned from them how to tell the difference between a Norwich and a Norfolk Terrier and much more about different breeds.  And, man, are there tons of different breeds, each one special and unique in their own way. Each one has its own gait and mannerisms, bred for different tasks and different grooming needs. For a dog lover, it’s pure heaven to watch.

Vixen wasn’t the problem in the ring, Mom was.  Thankfully, most judges tend to take the handler’s incompetence into consideration and actually judge the dog on the merits of the dog, e.g. how well the dog meets the standards for the breed. Most judges were very understanding and patient with this nincompoop of a handler. One smirked as I clumsily lifted Vixen to the table for inspection and told her I was new to the show ring. “You don’t say?”  she grinned as she removed my hands from petting Vixen’s head so she could check her bite and coat.

Early in our conformation experience, we entered the ring and I was instantly intimidated by the judge.  She was an elderly woman with silky white hair and a bright red, blue and yellow outfit adorned with schnauzer buttons and a hat that looked like something from the Kentucky Derby. She didn’t smile and that made me really nervous.  

I whispered, “This is one of our first times in the ring,” hoping she’d forgive any handling mistakes I might make.   

She just looked down at Vixen and said, “You’ve got her collar on backwards.” 

Smiling, I said lightly “I told you I was new to this,” in a tone that I hoped would lighten the mood.

She just glared at me. 

“Do you want me to fix it?” I asked.

“Yes” she said rolling her eyes and impatience in her voice.

I knew we were doomed and thought about just bolting out of the ring without even trying to finish the rest of the exercise. But, we made it through and it was one of our first shows together.  

Conformation Dog Shows is serious business.  Those shows take place in the mud, the rain and heat. People drive hundreds of miles, some of them in expensive RVs, all for a few short minutes in the ring. 

One week-end we got up dark and early to hit the road heading for Ocala for a show. We had to be there by 8:00 am to meet up with Teri and some other border terriers for a show. Ocala, Florida has a huge, nice showground and all the rings are outside.

It started pouring down rain halfway there.  The rain was so heavy that I thought a few times about pulling over to wait it out. When we got there, I realized that my shoes were in no way going to survive the mud and muck. I noticed that the pros at this were prepared with over-sized umbrellas, boots and covers for their shoes. Thankfully, Teri was prepared and even had an extra pair of overshoes for my feet. 

I was still a nervous handler and let Vixen set the pace for our “down and back” for the judge.  This is not a good idea. We trotted, no, ran down to the end of the ring and back, mud slopping onto the back of my legs and skirt. The judge said that would be great if we were auditioning for the Boston Marathon and would I please take my dog down and back again at a much slower pace.

I got better at handling Vixen and we did win points to get the coveted Championship Title added to her name. We even beat professional handlers at a few shows and, let me tell you, that is the pinnacle of pride right there.  The pros are practically invisible in the ring.  All you see is the dog, the perfectly behaved, impeccably groomed, properly paced dog. The pros know how to make even the mediocre dog look and act like best of breed. I wonder, though, how much they enjoy what they do; too many seem angry, stressed and downright miserable.