by NANCY GALLIMORE
You’ve seen the big dog shows on television — Westminster, The National Dog Show and Crufts, to name a few of the most notable. The edited-for-television conformation competitions showcase nicely outfitted handlers gaiting perfectly groomed dogs while esteemed judges look on. It’s all very dignified and choreographed as the human-and-dog teams pose and move in perfect harmony.
As one of the humans who dabbles at the end of a show lead, I can assure you the glamour you perceive is not a true picture of life on the dog show circuit. The sport of showing dogs may be more like a gritty after school special than the sparkling spectacular you see when you tune in to Westminster.
First, you should know there are typically two types of handlers at shows. Spoiler alert: there are very skilled professionals who earn their livings artfully presenting dogs for clients. They travel with assistants to help with a lot of the dirty work. You see a good number of these pro handlers on the televised dog shows.
Then there are owner-handlers who strike out to show their own dogs in pursuit of points and championships. I fall very far into that latter DIY category. Or perhaps into my own sometimes-I-give-this-a-whirl category.
Recently, my aspiring show puppy Colt and I headed to the St. Louis area to compete at the Dalmatian Club of America National Specialty. A specialty show is breed specific; in our case it was a chance to strut our stuff with spotted dogs from across the country. But there is a lot of prep before you get to the strutting part at an actual event.
The first step is to get to the show. For this outing, I packed my car early on a Sunday morning with more bags, crates and supplies than one human and one dog could seemingly need. Cargo space maximized, Colt and I embarked on the 376-mile drive — a trip that should take five hours and 38 minutes according to my trusty phone navigation.
Unfortunately, the app failed to predict a traffic jam, resulting in three additional stop-and-start hours spent creeping along the highway. Being stuck in a car is especially fun when you’re trying to keep a 9-month-old puppy entertained. I was just thankful we had recently stopped for a potty break — a true silver lining in my cloud of frustration.
Traffic eventually transitioned from parking lot to speed limit, and we made it to the Purina Farms Event Center to offload crates and stretch six road-weary legs (mine and his). Are we to the glamorous part of this outing yet? Not quite.
Next stop was the luxurious Quality Inn hotel, located 4.3 miles from the show site. The luxury was not necessarily in the accommodations but rather in the quick 10-minute drive to the showgrounds. Standards are very flexible when traveling with a canine roomie.
If you are lucky, you have a fully equipped motor home. If you are me, you have the Quality Inn. No complaints here though. It was convenient, clean, had good grass and was in an area where I did not need an armed guard for that inevitable midnight puppy potty break. Add in incredibly dog-friendly staff and our two-star motel morphed into a five-star experience by my standards.
Now let’s chat a bit about those potty breaks. This was Colt’s first dog show outing away from home. His first time staying in a hotel. His first time attempting to poop somewhere other than his own backyard.
That initial evening, we walked. And walked. Then we walked a little more. Finally, my perplexed boy had no option but to get down to business. I think my fellow hotel guests must have found my celebration over Colt’s call of nature a bit extreme, but it’s not my first rodeo as a crazy dog lady. It surely won’t be the last.
Photo by Phyllis Ensley Photography.
OK, there really is a dog show in this story. We made it to our painfully early ring times. I did my rookie version of presenting my dog to various judges over the course of the week. Colt added a little puppy flair here and there, once exuberantly jumping straight up in the air to look one surprised judge directly in the eye. If that doesn’t say give me the blue ribbon, I don’t know what does. That judge, however, did not award us anything remotely blue.
In the end, while it wasn’t necessarily glamorous, it was certainly a fun beginning to a promising career for my spotted prodigy. Colt had a great experience and made several new friends.
I came home with four ribbons (one was blue!) and one pretty trophy. I earned one blister, running in shoes that weren’t properly broken in. I had one very excellent margarita during an evening out with treasured friends. And I managed to sort through the plethora of online show photos to find three to purchase that didn’t make me cringe. Please understand, the dog always looked great. I have yet to master the art of also appearing “show quality.”
And then, after six days of dog bathing, primping, running, presenting, visiting, playing, snuggling, walking and walking some more, it was time to Tetris everything back into the car to head home.
The return drive was blissfully accomplished in the predicted five hours, 38 minutes. And by the end of the week, Colt was officially a champion away-from-home pooper. This is not a title recognized by the American Kennel Club. But for me and my sweet boy? It’s definitely one for the win column. Glamour is overrated.
