I should know better

A lovely jaunt to the Highlands to judge Toys at a little show at the foot of Ben Nevis - no I didn`t even see it. It rained. Evidently it always rains there. I arrived in the evening, and strolled through the wet town briefly, lookng for a restaurant and finding challenging-looking chip shops and tourist traps offering haggis and neeps for fifteen pounds. I ended up in Macdonalds, looking out at the rain and eating packaged indigestion.

But it was a lovely show next day, and the hospitality was excellent. I enjoyed the dogs, even the Peke bitch who made several attempts to have me, and the little black Pom who took one look at me and tucked his tail between his legs and kept it there.

Show dogs can be sensitive. I watched the main judge dealing with a class of Malamutes. One large furry macho male, capable of hauling a load in excess of a ton over ice, roached his back and wailed softly as she put a hand under to check if he was entire.

"One of those little intimate moments," she remarked nonchalantly to the surprised owner.

She was very entertaining, and quite pregnant ("Due 3 weeks before Crufts - an ideal age for a first visit") and subsequently saved me from the joys of the train home (one train a day which stops, like an old dog, at every blade of grass as it meanders through the Highland scenery.) I was grateful for the lift, and we barrrelled on down through Glencoe and along Loch Lomond, enjoying the spectacular views and talking down and dirty dog politics.

Home early - a good end to a good day.

And meanwhile, at another show, in a galaxy far, far away (well, Wales), Allegra on her first outing had qualified for Crufts.