Saga of a woman old enough to know better who lets her life be governed by the ridiculous hobby of breeding and showing dogs, musing on life, the twenty first century, Cameron and his mini-me, and the occasional sheep.

Sunday, June 24, 2007


Well, I take it all back. We had a good week of showing. Even Florian The Climbing Dog condescended to behave in the ring, and every one of them was placed well. Allegra, even more demented than usual, raced round the ring, tried desperately to reach some Peke droppings in the next ring, bounced up and down - and took the RCC to be Reserve Best Bitch. I was amazed...Allegra was bored. She could see as she posed for pictures that there was no chance now of getting back to those Peke droppings....

Shelby was his usual self. Other Chin were sitting on coolpacks and drooping in the shade...Shelby loves heat and swaggered in the sun. He was unfailingly sociable to the other rather timid and overheated exhibits and I felt better about his 2nd when I discovered that the 1st belonged to a close friend of the judge...so it goes.

Our breed is becoming a magnet for superheroes. At the last show we had Papillonman, making the showring safe for humanity and frogs. At this one I understand there was an appearance (or perhaps apparition?) of Flowerpowerman in crushed velvet flares, but I`m told he was so laid back he had sunk out of sight by the time I got there. I can see we are going to get a name for this kind of thing and am looking around nervously for the next guy to feel an irresistible impulse to put on his underpants over his tights.

It seems to go with the breed. Many years ago, we lost a Club member, one of those quiet uniformly grey Scotsmen of the bunnet and Sunday Post variety. Committee officials were delegated to attend the funeral.

They arrived in the wee grey kirk in a wee grey town, suitably solemn and soberly dressed, and were amazed when the other mourners arrived in flamboyant cowboy outfits and the coffin was carried in draped in the Confederate flag with a pair of distinctly Texan boots on top...with silver spurs. The minister was unfazed.

"We are gathered here to say farewell to Colorado, as we knew him..."

"Colorado!" I am ashamed to say that the delegation completely lost their cool at this point and found it increasingly difficult to maintain the decorum required for a Scottish funeral as they tried to imagine his other secret life.

Not that there`s any harm in dressing up.

But rumours that I will appear at Leeds as Wonderwoman will have to be scotched right now....

I can`t find my Golden Lasso of Truth, let alone my Feminium bracelets.
Clearly someone needs to knit you an outfit in something shimmery ...
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