My dog wins a prize

BY NICK BARNETT

I've never wanted to put my dogs up for awards. It's not why I have dogs. I have dogs for plain, ordinary fun, and probably most of you dog owners do, too. But if you suddenly had the chance to lead your dog or cat into the competition arena, would you? And what do you think would happen?

First off, I'm not knocking people who "show" their dogs and cats. It's hard work over many years, and takes a lot of knowledge of the species and specialty breed. Shows - in theory, at least - can help uphold breed standards.

And seeing the finest dogs at Crufts or other top dog shows is great entertainment and I'm sure inspires people to do the best with their own pets.

No, I don't knock "showing" - I'm just too lazy to go in for it. I can imagine how addictive and even obsessing it can become (as portrayed in the movie Best in Show), and I don't really want to give rein to the potentially obsessive part of my nature.

Having said all that...I reckon my dogs look great. They're prizewinners to my untaught eyes. I feel proud when people compliment them.

And this past weekend when the opportunity suddenly came to put one of our dogs in a show, I took it. Wouldn't you?

I say "show", but let's be clear, it was part of a Fun Day put on by the Dachshund Club, which we joined a while ago and whose newsletters we read thoroughly. It wasn't a full-scale competition, just an informal event for dogs-off-the-street.

On Saturday morning we realised we still had time for a quick look at the Fun Day, among other things planned.

So we drove to the NZ Kennel Club's headquarters in Porirua, left Connor and Phoebe in the car, and headed through the building's side door to find out what this Fun Day was all about.

In the warehouse-like building a bunch of people stood around a cordoned square, with lots of miniature dachshunds standing, sitting, or being held. A long table held dachshund T-shirts and an array of strangely non-dog-related knick-knacks for sale.

Straight away some people greeted us warmly and when it was found out we had dogs in the car, everyone said "bring them in!", "go get them!"

I protested: "But they're not groomed!" I was thinking of the knots, biddy-bids and worse that might be in their coats and put me to bourgeois shame. A silly worry that lasted only a moment.

So we brought in Phoebe and Connor, and decided Connor was too scatty for the arena, so Phoebe would represent us. I gave my name and Phoebe's to a man with a clipboard, had a numbered card pinned to my jacket, and literally was ushered straight into the arena.

The event was a competition of "primers" - dachshunds up to about four years old.

I think seven of us were in the running. We walked our leashed dogs to the side of the arena and stood in a queue. Elaine, the kind lady behind me, whispered instructions to me as though I were an unrehearsed actor and she my prompt.

Standing in the queue, I could see that the other dogs in the lineup were all beautiful-looking dogs, whether wire-haired, short-haired or long-haired. I chatted with a couple of other owners as we waited there; a handsome long-haired daxie named Clarence took a brief erotic interest in Phoebe but it had no time to go anywhere.

After a minute or two, it was Phoebe's turn to be judged. I walked her to a covered table and lifted her on to it.

The judge started his scrutiny. He looked at her eyes, her ears, felt along her body, all the time trying to position Phoebe in that calm stance you see dogs adopt at dog shows. But Phoebe didn't want to do a stance - she must have felt she was at the vet's, as she tucked her tail between her legs and pushed her butt down on the table.

Eventually the judge had seen enough. Then he told me to walk Phoebe away from him, then turn twice to return to him.

I must say, Phoebe performed this bit very well. All that heeling training came in handy as she stayed at my heel, eyes fixed on my face, for that little walk back to the judge.

Soon all the competitors were lined up along the other side of the arena, and the judge came up and nodded to Elaine. I was still in eye-lock with Phoebe, praising her to the heavens, when the judge nodded to...me!

I walked Phoebe to a spot in front of a "3" sign, and was handed a scissored piece of printed card that said The Dachshund Club Inc Funday 3RD.

We won something!

Other competitions continued as we chatted with other dachshund owners, admired each other's dogs, and listened to hints and ideas about how to tame Hurricane Connor. A raffle was drawn and a sheet was removed from a table of scones and savouries.

The second half of the Fun Day was to have competition in categories such as Best Trick, Friendliest Dog and Best Head. I reckon Phoebe would have been a contender there, but we had to head off so didn't get a chance.

I liked meeting those other dachshund owners. They love the breed as I do, and have a store of knowledge that I hope to raid. We'll go to the next Fun Day and we might even put Phoebe up for more prizes, just for fun. One day, when he's a calmer dog, we might even walk Connor around the arena. That's a dream. Just doing that will be a prize for us.

But even if Saturday was the full extent of our competitive lives, I'll always remember it, and will always hold on to that little piece of scissored card.

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