I should know better

A quiet weekend in the sun recovering from a show at Blackpool. Blackpool is, as you know "famous for fresh air and fun" (and I can do the whole monologue), but for me it`s a dogshow. Have showdogs, visit interesting places, show dogs in them. I never saw the beach, let alone the tower.

I remember once going to judge in Keighly and ending up staying far out in a hotel which the owner told me was ideal for visiting Haworth and Bronte country. But I had to judge a show at 9am. I ended up studying Bronte country through the powerful binoculars he kindly lent me.

Anyway, Blackpool. I woke at 6 with an appalling pain in the back of my neck. "Meningitis!" I thought.......then "No, worse than that - I`ve been sleeping on a dogbus." I switched on the radio in time for the most fearsome weather warning - thunderstorms, flash floods, tornadoes.
"Seen them all, mostly at dogshows," I thought, "wonder how Marcus` coat has come on in a week?"

Well it had, a bit. We were blessed or cursed with an unusually eccentric judge, who often takes as his fashion icon Elton John, and is occasionally on the same planet as the exhibitors. It helps if he is sober too.

Florian was returned to me, fresh from his little holiday in pristine condition. He was glad to see me and had an ecstatic reunion with Prudence, who had been insisting that she would have a hissy fit and die if she was asked to face up to all this on her own. I hadn`t suspected that she saw him as a wise. competent protective male.....not exactly my view of a rather stolid, unadventurous little dog who takes life very seriously.

But the result of the reunion was that they both showed really well. The judge was sober. Prudence was further inspired by a fake fur squeaky mouse, and rose to great heights of swagger. Florian won again, and she was placed high.

The storms and tornadoes?

Well, I didn`t really notice. As usual I was too busy showing dogs.

And today I`ve been relaxing in the sun, watching the pack in their relentless pursuit of Jim. Some day he`ll swoop too low and everyone will dine on crow.

Meanwhile Notpavarotti has a rival, singing over in the wood. This one appears to have taken lessons, or at least to have read "Being A Thrush For Dummies" and does not feel that sounds like a nail being drawn down corrugated iron or strange clicking chirps have any part in the song of his species. I will watch the contest with interest.