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.
"IN DOG YEARS, I`M DEAD"
Judging another Open show last weekend, this time mercifully not distracted by messages of disaster and death. I was able to get on with the task peacefully, and had a very nice selection of dogs of varying breeds.
The odd thing about Open shows is that there is now an Open Show Culture. Many people only go to Open shows, and that becomes their dogshowing world. They seldom consider Championship shows. And so you can find that a different type of dog, usually one that will appeal to all-rounders, consistently wins there...a dog that would not shine at a higher level.
However, I did not have that problem, and my winners, a Bolognese and a Bichon puppy, would hold their own in any company. I was impeded a little by the unedifying spectacle of two grown women arguing over who was to have a Puppy rosette, and had to send them to the secretary, where the battle continued. And I thought - this is supposed to be a hobby? But said nothing, and put the rosette back in the box.
Home to a bunch of resentful dogs, especially Angel, who now expects to go everywhere with me, and Ella, who pouts and sulks without constant attention, (preferably involving cake or chicken.)