So you’ve decided to enter the local fun dog show with your much loved pets.
As the owner of the dog that’s obviously the prettiest canines in the world you hope to return home with at leastone rosette.
The atmosphere is wonderfully chaotic. Scruffy and superior mature terriers lift top lips with desire towards frolicking spaniels. The look portraying a definite “these are my teeth and I’m not scared to use them”. Brilliantly trained dogs sit looking resolutely at their owners while you wrestle your snarling menace thru the crowds. Simultaneously trying to remove a discarded burger from the mustard coated dripping jowls of menace number two.
A competent dog trainer explains to a desperate looking owner how to train a Siberian husky with reward and strengthening. You make a mental note to take a card from said trainer in the hope of a miracle solution for the terrible twins, who are now squabbling at your feet.
You tick off the show sheet after deciding which class offers the most likelihood of success. Raise your eyebrows at the simple proposal that you must enter “dog most like handler” and line up between a teenager and her greying Labrador and an OAP with her blow dried Pomeranians.
Your turn arrives and the tweed clad Judge requests you lift menace one onto the examination table. Not straightforward when the dog is now of the opinion that he is at a vet’s in a field. Menace 2 has plans for a spectators cream tea.
A near miss between glossy white dog and tweedy sleeve is approaching. You kindly refuse to subject the cream tea distracted menace to the perceived vets table. Leave the class before the winner declared to make a shaky embarrassed exit towards the sympathetic and expectant looking dog trainer.