Dispatches from the Frickin’ Serengeti

Bearded Collie Club of Maine Regional Specialty/Supported Entry
(Ladies’ Dog Club shows)
June 1 & 2, 2013
Sweeps: 1st in 6-9. Regular Classes: 2nd  in 6-9 (Sat.) and 1st in 6-9 (Sun.)

Rowan's breeder, Laura, showed her in her 6-9 debut.

Rowan’s breeder, Laura, showed her in her 6-9 debut.

Seriously, the weather gods need to cut the good people in the Ladies’ Dog Club a break. Last year, their show took place in the midst of a monsoon. This year, the temperatures reached well into the 90s — which we haven’t seen in a regional weather forecast before or since. With the help of bazillions of bags of ice, fans, cool beds, big honkin’ tents with lots of shade, and Gatorade, we persevered…

Rowan’s breeder offered to show her in her 6-9 debut. The baby acquitted herself pretty well, for all that she was just 6 months and 4 days old on the day of the Regional. She behaved, mostly moved in one direction at a given time, and heartily enjoyed the fleece toy she won in her Sweeps class. (She also brought home a check for nine whole dollars. Now, when people ask me if we’ve ever made money at dog showing…) Her classmates in handling class and their owners would scarcely believe that the beautiful, reasonably well-behaved young lady at the shows was in any way related to the red-haired hooligan who appears in class every Thursday and navigates the ring without once touching the ground.

The kid cleans up good!

The kid cleans up good!

My friend Linda had her Havanese at the show: her newly-minted champion dog and her class bitch, and she needed an extra pair of hands in the Best of Breed ring when the girlie went WB. I ended up graduating from Havanese holder to Havanese handler. All credit is due to the dog for going BOS and BOW; I just did my part by staying upright on the other end of the lead.

Much later on, a bunch of us gathered in one room at the hotel and ordered take-out from a local Italian place. The food arrived, but without napkins, utensils, or anything else we might have used with the meal. The person who placed the order called the restaurant asking about the utensils (under the assumption that since the restaurant made plenty of deliveries to the hotel, they might bring some on the next trip). The person on the other end shouted, “BITCH!” and hung up the phone. Two hours later, a knock came on the door. It was the restaurant’s delivery guy, bearing a bag with three plastic forks inside. (There were five of us.) Can’t win ’em all, I guess. If you’re ever staying in Foxboro, call the Chinese take-out place instead. The food is great, the portions generous, and they can keep an order straight.

Regional Specialties are part dog show, part family reunion. The best part of such a show is seeing all the dogs’ family members together — puppies and their parents, littermates and half-siblings, little ones growing up, adolescents changing color, and the wonderful veterans. (I wanted to put Dinah in Veterans for the very first time, but she wasn’t in condition. Her boyfriend Traveler was there, though. His daughter Bonnie took the 5-point bitch major on Sunday. Traveler’s son Brae, who is Bonnie’s full brother from a different litter, went BOS both days.)

Thanks to everyone who came, showed, sweated, hugged their hotel-room air conditioners, and braved the local food delivery to come play with us. Particular thanks go to the kind folks who manned the club tent, the lunch buffet, and the raffle.

Now that this year’s shows are done, could we put in a requisition for partly-sunny, 65-degree weather for next year’s shows?

Memory Lane
Talkin’ ’bout