a dog.”
What do random-bred dogs have to do with dog shows? Absolutely nothing, and this is not institutionalized hubris or snobbery,
either. Leotards and tutus have nothing to do with either ice or field hockey and a palette and easel have nothing to do with
ballet. All activities—call them arts, crafts, enthusiasms, sciences, contests, games, sports, fancies, therapies, hobbies,
or businesses, as you will—have a core purpose, established rules, and, one hopes, qualified participants. A dog show is all
about the best purebred dogs around, and I say that without casting aspersions or looking down a hairy, regal nose.
Ostensibly a dog show’s purpose is to single out individual examples of any given breed that are the closest to their own
brand of perfection and select them to be mated and produce more and better puppies in kind. This kind of selective breeding
has gone on for a very long time, a lot longer than there have been dog shows to memorialize this ultimate contest in opinion.
It is perfectly all right for a show-dog owner to say rude things about a competitor’s little pride and joy—they often do—it
is accepted, although admittedly rude. In fact, if ruder things are said than those whispered remarks about the competition
at a dog show, they will be about the judge.
That is OK. Judges are fair game. However, no one has the right to say anything rude about a random-bred dog. They already
have enough on their plate, God love ’em. They need all the respect they can get, for in that way fewer of them might be euthanized.
Showing Your Dog
At the early stages in a dog show the judging is limited to one breed at a time and the field is divided between the sexes.
At one point, then, you will have all not-yet-champion, or unfinished, male Cocker Spaniels of a given class in one ring together,
all unfinished female English Springer Spaniels in another ring nearby or about to follow the Cockers, and so on through the
breeds. Newcomers to the dog-show world don’t seem to have difficulty comprehending this system, but later, when the seven
groups and Best in Show (BIS) slate are judged, the eyebrows go up. When it seems that a Chihuahua is being judged against
a Newfoundland, and a Miniature Poodle against a Bullmastiff, a puzzled expression is the least one could expect. Of course,
such judging is never done. No such thing is happening. It just seems that way to the uninitiated. Eventually you end up with
seven dogs of seven different breeds (unless it is a one-breed or specialty show). When it gets down to the final contest
and the seven group winners are competing for Best in Show, each of the seven dogs is being measured against the standards
for its own breed, perfection being worth one hundred points. The judging is not dog against dog but individual dogs against
their own breed’s standard. (Don’t worry if you’re not following all this: classes, groups, and judging will be discussed
in greater detail in Chapter 3.) In the Sporting Group ring, then, after the initial judging of the individual breeds, there
will be twenty-four breeds represented by one dog or bitch each, in most cases. Each of those dogs will have already won Best
of Breed or Best of Variety of its breed earlier that day.
POLITICS IN THE RING
Hang on, now it gets bumpy. The breed we call Cocker Spaniel (a totally different breed today from its ancestor, the English
Cocker Spaniel) will be represented not by one dog but by three, each a Best of Variety. One will be black, another will be
parti-color (a pinto, of sorts), and the third will be an ASCOB (any solid color other than black). Aside from color, the
three Cocker Spaniels will be judged by exactly the same standards. Remember, they are but varieties within a breed.
But hold on, one might say, there is only one Labrador Retriever in the same Sporting Group ring, yet Labs, too, come in three
color varieties: black, yellow, and
What do random-bred dogs have to do with dog shows? Absolutely nothing, and this is not institutionalized hubris or snobbery,
either. Leotards and tutus have nothing to do with either ice or field hockey and a palette and easel have nothing to do with
ballet. All activities—call them arts, crafts, enthusiasms, sciences, contests, games, sports, fancies, therapies, hobbies,
or businesses, as you will—have a core purpose, established rules, and, one hopes, qualified participants. A dog show is all
about the best purebred dogs around, and I say that without casting aspersions or looking down a hairy, regal nose.
Ostensibly a dog show’s purpose is to single out individual examples of any given breed that are the closest to their own
brand of perfection and select them to be mated and produce more and better puppies in kind. This kind of selective breeding
has gone on for a very long time, a lot longer than there have been dog shows to memorialize this ultimate contest in opinion.
It is perfectly all right for a show-dog owner to say rude things about a competitor’s little pride and joy—they often do—it
is accepted, although admittedly rude. In fact, if ruder things are said than those whispered remarks about the competition
at a dog show, they will be about the judge.
That is OK. Judges are fair game. However, no one has the right to say anything rude about a random-bred dog. They already
have enough on their plate, God love ’em. They need all the respect they can get, for in that way fewer of them might be euthanized.
Showing Your Dog
At the early stages in a dog show the judging is limited to one breed at a time and the field is divided between the sexes.
At one point, then, you will have all not-yet-champion, or unfinished, male Cocker Spaniels of a given class in one ring together,
all unfinished female English Springer Spaniels in another ring nearby or about to follow the Cockers, and so on through the
breeds. Newcomers to the dog-show world don’t seem to have difficulty comprehending this system, but later, when the seven
groups and Best in Show (BIS) slate are judged, the eyebrows go up. When it seems that a Chihuahua is being judged against
a Newfoundland, and a Miniature Poodle against a Bullmastiff, a puzzled expression is the least one could expect. Of course,
such judging is never done. No such thing is happening. It just seems that way to the uninitiated. Eventually you end up with
seven dogs of seven different breeds (unless it is a one-breed or specialty show). When it gets down to the final contest
and the seven group winners are competing for Best in Show, each of the seven dogs is being measured against the standards
for its own breed, perfection being worth one hundred points. The judging is not dog against dog but individual dogs against
their own breed’s standard. (Don’t worry if you’re not following all this: classes, groups, and judging will be discussed
in greater detail in Chapter 3.) In the Sporting Group ring, then, after the initial judging of the individual breeds, there
will be twenty-four breeds represented by one dog or bitch each, in most cases. Each of those dogs will have already won Best
of Breed or Best of Variety of its breed earlier that day.
POLITICS IN THE RING
Hang on, now it gets bumpy. The breed we call Cocker Spaniel (a totally different breed today from its ancestor, the English
Cocker Spaniel) will be represented not by one dog but by three, each a Best of Variety. One will be black, another will be
parti-color (a pinto, of sorts), and the third will be an ASCOB (any solid color other than black). Aside from color, the
three Cocker Spaniels will be judged by exactly the same standards. Remember, they are but varieties within a breed.
But hold on, one might say, there is only one Labrador Retriever in the same Sporting Group ring, yet Labs, too, come in three
color varieties: black, yellow, and
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