On a Roll

I've discovered something profound, and I'll share it with you. It's a secret, so use your best judgement to whom you divulge it.

If you actually enter your beautiful whippets in shows, sometimes they will win! And if you never enter or go to a show, they won't.

Yes! You heard it here!!!

Over the last two years, I barely went to any dog shows. This was not very fair to Swede William's breeder (in Sweden) who gave me her pick male puppy thinking he would actually get shown. Nor was it fair to Swede William and Lindy Loo who love to show more than anything except exterminating Evil City Squirrellies. Maybe even more than that.

After moving to Paducah, I had a little adjusting to do. Dog showing back home meant an hour's drive, two at the most, stopping at Dunkin' Donuts on the way (for luck, just for luck, not for the cranberry orange muffin and Boston cream - not creme- donut) with my best friends. Laughing and talking. Taking the whole waggle along. Singing Paul Simon songs for more luck. ("Mama Pajama rolled out of bed and she ran to the police station. When the papa found out he began to shout and that started the investigation.") Laughing and talking more. Being home by lunch.

Around here, it means driving 2.5 to 6 hours each way and staying in a hotel (ick). It's too hot for the rest of the waggle to hang out in the van so they have to stay home. Oh, hey, that's not so much fun. And then with the recession and blah blah blah.

I wasn't going to many dog shows. At all.

Well, we're going to dog shows again! Lee and Dee are kind enough to go with me. It is so much nicer to be able to abuse good friends by asking them to hold the Screaming Meemees ringside. (Whichever dog isn't in the ring, wants to be. They're a bit vocal - one could say shrill - in their complaints! When Lee and Dee don't go, I have to ask Random Ringside Persons.) We call ourselves The Golden Girls.

The dogs have done great! Yesterday, Lindy Loo was Best of Breed and Swede William was Best of Opposite. What a kick! I hadn't been in the Group ring since Lindy Loo's daddy won a Group 4 under Kent Delaney. This particular show was only one hour away, oh Glory.

I didn't take Sam I Am along on Saturday, fearing the heat. Bill said that after I left, he walked the dogs. (He's a Good Man.) After that, he was upstairs in his study, writing in his journal. He thought the Tornado Siren was going off. Turned out it was Sammy, downstairs by himself, head thrown back and howling his sorrow at being left home. So I took him on Sunday. We showed at 8 AM and I tarped the van until it looked like a big tin-foil wrapped Oscar Meyer Weiner! He did fine.

William! Wait for me!!!

You can't take dog shows too seriously. You can be serious in your devotion to your dogs, but you have to remember that every show reflects just one person's opinion. Sometimes the dogs I show win. More often, I congratulate someone else on their win. And I am genuinely happy for them. I was stuck with this feeling though that these dogs might not finish their championships.

WELL DUH!!!! It wasn't that there was anything wrong with the dogs, no! You have to show to win! Hello???? You can't win if you don't go! Your dogs can't finish their championships if they aren't ever entered.

Fifty-six years old and I figured that out all by myself. Ha!

hug your hounds

Here we are!

Emmett

Playing catch up.

I've got some orders to get out: thank you wonderful people who are buying my book! You know how in that James Stewart Christmas classic movie every time a bell rings an angel gets wings? Well, for me, every time a book sells, I feel like I can fly. Just for a second.

But it feels great, so thank you.

We went to a dog show on Sunday and had a blast. All three dogs showed like pros! Emmett went first, and did better than I imagined he would. His Heather was home - baby Ben's little brother is due in four weeks, but that wasn't why. Ben's daddy had to work, so Heather had a day with Ben, just the two of them. My great and generous friend Dee (of Lee and Dee fame) went with me, packing a yummy lunch to eat on the way, to hold dogs ringside and be excellent company on the SIX hours - three up, three back - of fascinating southern Illinois Interstate.

So Emmett had to go first, and didn't have his Heather to cheer him on, but he was a brave and happy and wonderful boy. No stage fright for him! Then it was Swede William's turn and he gave me goosebumps. Not so much the judge, though, who apparently got indigestion from William's glorious Swedish color. Dee reported hearing collective ooooh's and aaaaah's from the whippet folks ringside, which is gratifying.

Lindy Loo, who is the worst little fussbudget when we practice, was showier than a Rockette! She stood like a statue, arched her neck, cocked her head at the judge and moved like a dream. I couldn't help smiling - okay, beaming - at her. She had a blast.

These three dogs just love to show, and that makes it so much fun for me. Plus I got to see some friends who I haven't seen forever. Dee and I got home to Bill and Lee enjoying wine and cheese in our kitchen while Bill made a signature pasta dish - oooooh sun dried tomatoes artichoke hearts shrimp wine and cream sauce ohhhhhh ahhhhhh. It was just a great day. I was asleep under a pile of whippets by 8:30.

Work is going fine. (Although you've noticed it cuts into my blog time something fierce.) Bill is doing a heroic job of being primary dog servant. I am so enjoying giving patient care again: it is such a special privilege. I don't have the time to devote right this minute, but in another post I'll talk about that. The gift of caring for people.

And I'm having a blast getting to know the staff of the floor where I'm working. It's a delightful, fun, energetic, responsible, cooperative group of people. They help each other, and they put their patients first. That makes for a rewarding work environment. My preceptor is a very good nurse. So young! More on that in another post, too.

It's a busy day. The Paducah Kennel Club Christmas Party is tonight. No rest for the weary!



Hug your hounds - it's good to 'see' you!

Swede William at the National

The Board meeting started at 6:30. In the morning. When the meeting time was announced, I asked if 6:30 a.m. is an actual time? Does it exist in reality? Apparently, yes, it does.

Swede William stayed in bed with his brand new friends Lavender and Colin and his human friend Crystal while I showered. I've gotten so incredibly techno that I can set a wake up alarm on my cell phone. Yes, I am impressed with myself, as I'm sure you are as well. It's silly, because if I set an alarm, I wake up minutes before it goes off anyway, but there you go.

I dressed (remember I had cleverly left my hanging clothes on the back of the bedroom door in Western Kentucky) in the only pair of non-khaki, non-denim pants I had. A pale peach silk pair of oldies but goodies, with a cotton camel turtleneck sweater - a recent hand-me-down gift from a generous friend (had you recognised it, Deb?) - that didn't really match, oh well. It was warm and comfy. I took a good-natured little Swedish whippet out for a walk around the hotel grounds as the sun groaned over the smoggy horizon, plopped him in his crate in the van with breakfast, and kissed him.

Did he protest the early hour? Being alone in the van? Dining solo? He did not. He was snugly in his Wistwind Goretex and shearling coat and he gave me a Scandinavian wink and a nod: I'm cool! Life is grand! Go do your silly human thing; I'm going back to sleep.

The Board meeting was not finished by the time Board members had to show their puppies, so we would reconvene during the lunch break. I honestly can't remember what I did. I'm sure I immediately got William and went for another good walk. We must have watched for a while. Oh! The conversation about the borrowed skirt and the butt sweats occurred. I avoided the booths as much as I could, only I had to buy some liver for bait. (See Swede William's adoringly attentive expression in the top photo? Liver.)

The meeting concluded at lunch. We would reconvene once more after the votes had been counted to elect Board officers.

Time for Swede William's class, Open Dogs. All of the dogs entered the ring in the Atlanta Hilton ballroom with the wild carpet. The class was so large that, after having a first impression look at the entire entry, the judge split the class into thirds, keeping only the first third in the ring. William was in the second third. Again (this is a little scary) I can't recall what I did in the meantime, but when the judge had chosen his 'keepers' from the first third, and the second third went back into the ring for their turn, Swede William and I were among them.

The dog loves, loves, loves to show. He can get a little persnickety about the judge examining his bite (well, who knows where those hands have been) and I was worried. Seemed like just about everyone at the National wanted a close up view of William's eyes. (The American whippet standard calls for a dark, "nearly black" eye. This is a genetic impossibility in dogs of William's color - which is why you don't see many showing in this country. William's eyes are as dark as genetically possible, but people want to see for themselves.) A handy way to look at a whippet's eyes is to grab his nose and turn his face up to you. And about 236 people had done that so far that day outside the ring. So I worried that William had had enough of strangers' hands on his muzzle.



Oh and a word about the judge. He's oh my God handsome. Cary Grant handsome only better. Oh how I wished I could have shown him Lindy Loo, and her handsome brother Emmett. And I wished I could have shown Sam I Am in agility and rally, and Looch and Delia in Veteran's, but it was not to be. I was going to fulfill my promise to William's breeder Lisa, and William would show in the National. Dammit.



He was a Very Good Dog. He didn't mind hunka hunka judge's hands in his mouth one bit. He did everything right. And he made the cut!!! Woohoooo! That's a big deal to make the cut at the National. He would come back in with the other keepers.

Only now the Board had to gather to elect officers. We discussed. I said, "I have to keep track of time, because my Open dog made the cut." We discussed more. I tried to see what was going on in the ball room, but couldn't. More discussion. "I think I better go now. Whatever you decide is fine with me."

William and I dashed back into the ballroom, to a chorus of "Patience, get IN there! They're back in already! Hurry UP!" from the spectators. The dogs were all lined up in the middle of the ring, facing the crowd. We had missed the grand entrance and first go around. I found an opening in the middle and squoze in. Redfaced.

William was just happy to be playing again.

And he finished third in Open Dogs at the National.

Good boy. Congratulations, Lisa. Not only did you breed a handsome, correct, fast whippet who floats around the ring with ease. You bred a dog with the best temperament in the world, and a shining, wonderful heart! Well done and thank you.

hug your hounds


(photos by William's friend Joe Stewart, who kindly held a jealous screaming William ringside at shows when he was a pup and I was in the ring with Lindy Loo and Emmett)

Dog Show

Welcome to one of the biggest dog shows in the United States. In recent years there have been as many as 5600 dogs entered in this show, but with the economy and the price of gas, this year there were only 3409 entries. There were 134 whippet entries because it's our Midwest Specialty Show.

Folks come from all over. There were around thirty-five rings like this one, and hundreds of motorhomes, campers, and even tents. All of the hotels for miles were full.

if you click to enlarge, you will see one tiny area of RV's

We were fortunate enough to be invited to stay with Crystal in her pop-up. (That's the Crystal who went to Sweden with us.) I took Swede William and Lindy Loo, and Crystal took her lovely champion, Lavender, and Sidney the girl puppy, and Mallory joined us with Luther, whom Crystal bred. The pop-up had tons of room, and Swede William and Lindy Loo felt right at home.

Lavender and Sydney in their crates on Crystal's king sized bed

William and Lindy Loo enjoyed the fact that their bed overlooked the dining table!

click to see some of the cool stuff, use your back button to return

Every dog show has vendors. Cool stuff that you can't find anywhere else. My poor dogs. All I bought this year was two battery operated crate fans. I have twelve battery operated crate fans. At home. In the van. Also in the van were my dog show chairs, my spare emergency pantyhose, my Pepto-bismal, my x-pens (collapsible fencing for temporary yards), and my mind. I should not travel to a dog show without my Warburton Whippet Wagon. No, I should not.

At most dog shows, you can get your dog's health testing done,

including, heart, ears (for congenital deafness), and eyes, all by board certified specialists, and you can get a reduced fee for microchipping. You can also get your dog's Canine Good Citizen award, and even get certified as a Therapy Dog.

Being at a dog show is a little like being at a twelve step program meeting. No one questions your addiction. You don't have to apologize for having a baggy of dog poo in your hand, in fact, you can be proud of it for being a Human Good Citizen. Not a single soul will ask where your dogs sleep; it's a given. They sleep in the middle of the bed, sprawled out in luxury, as you cling for dear life to the very edge.

The only difference between a dog show crowd and a twelve step program meeting is that no one is looking for a cure.

The camper folks get together and share meals, and fun. The Labrador fancy had a slightly scary karaoke thing going one tent over. We whippet lovers had the annual POOP TOSSING CONTEST, and this year Crystal WON the whole thing, getting her name forever on the plaque. (It's fake poop.) Adult beverages are rumored to be involved.

Everyone entered in a dog show thinks their dog is the best. The three winners in every breed (Best of Breed, Winners Dog and Winners Bitch) think the judging was outstanding, the rest think the judge was a blind, senile, crooked, farting, stupid idiot. (That's a bit overstated. Maybe.)

Some of the whippet bitch champions line up for the judge

The winners get their pictures taken with the judge and flowers and fanciness, and get congratulated.

You see lots and lots of things at a dog show that you won't see anywhere else on earth. Every imaginable breed of dog. Looking at the smallest chihuahua and the giant Irish Wolfhounds side by side gives you a great smack of the power of selective breeding.

Oh and there are dog fashions

And human fashions!!! Where else could you win a beauty contest, wearing a gorgeous stylin' teal linen suit, accented with black sneakers and white athletic socks? And win they did! That's our roomie, Luther, with his super talented handler Lesley, who won the five point major on Sunday. Woo-HOO for Luther, Lesley, Mallory and Crystal!!!

This year was our year to congratulate others. The Midwest Specialty has been really lucky for us. Last year Swede William won the Sweepstakes one day and won his class in the Specialty. Lindy Loo's daddy won Winners Dog and an Award of Merit, and his daddy was Best of Breed and won the Hound Group. Very Old Dog won his obedience class there way back when, and well, we've just always come home with a pile o'ribbons.

But this year was our turn to say, "Good for you!!!" Lindy and William could not have shown any better, and they were STELLAR little travellers, so I have no complaints. We got to see our dear friends Carolyn and Greg and that by itself was worth the trip. It was hard for Carolyn, who has always shown her own dogs, but is unable to because of the stinkin' cancer. She had to watch other folks do it. We were both a little teary saying goodbye, and when we made the "L" for Looser sign with our thumbs and forefingers on our foreheads we laughed, and that was good.

There will always be more dog shows.

It's the friends that are precious.

hug your hounds

We're home

We're home from our trip. And Blogger is being perfectly horrid. It will not let me upload a single photo. So what, you ask, this is a blog of stories, is it not?
Not when I took photos specifically for you, dear readers. Photos of the show grounds and of the camper in which we were graciously hosted. Photos of the dogs and of dog show fashion. Photos of Jake and his beautiful Gwen. Photos of Xela, and Jake's other horses.
I was going to show those of you who hadn't been to a dog show before what they are like, and I wrote the post in my mind during the long, lonely drive home.
I also called in to the NPR show, Talk of the Nation, during the long, lonely drive home! They were doing a story on charisma, and I wanted to make the point that animals have charisma. They let me on! You can hear it HERE, and I'm on at 11.10 into the segment. My voice is the squeaky, nervous one. Of course, I made my point much better about ten times over after the program ended. In my head. It was a very long, lonely drive home, have I mentioned that?
Lindy Loo and Swede William were zonked out, content to be on the way, and since it was Monday the cell phone minutes weren't free. But Bill called a second after I was on Talk of the Nation; he was checking his email in the kitchen and he heard Neal Conan say, "Our next caller is Patience from Paducah, Kentucky," and he choked on his Dorito. I talked about Secretariat, and I wanted to add that dogs have charisma, too. Dogs who win Best In Show at Westminster have tremendous charisma; that's why they call it "animal magnetism". And then there are our blogging friends, Wally and Joe Stains, who are as charismatic as any human could ever hope to be.
So that was the excitement on the Western Kentucky Parkway this afternoon.
I hope I can share my photos with you tomorrow.

It is good to be home.

hug your hounds

Going to a Dog Show

Normally I would be saying, "the van is packed and ready." But these are not normal times.

Gas.

I love my van. I adore my van. I bought my van back in the day when I was a full time R.N. and getting paid! I actually put a monthly "car payment" in a savings account, (earning interest instead of paying it) and when it was time to buy the van, I bought it. The van before this one had been bought used, but this was shiny new and spacious.

It is a fifteen passenger van. A church bus. A big airport shuttle. We took the bench seats out and filled in the cavern with dog crates and bins of my collars to sell and even a full sized x-pen up on a platform. All nine of the dogs ride comfortably, with room for a friend of the canine or human persuasion.

But I have not loaded the van for this trip.

I have taken crates out of the van and put them in... I still hate to say it out loud... the Buick. Rendezvous.

Our other car was always a Subaru wagon, since 1983. Except for a three year hiatus when we thought Japan wasn't trading fairly so we bought a Saturn. Other than that since 1983, we had a Subaru. Lulu the Subaru was the dog car before there was a van, back when there was a truck and horse trailer. She was a good luck, happy times dog car. She continued to be a happy car for our daughter an her husband after she left us. That was a great car.

But the whippets outgrew Subarus, and graduated to vans, and the Subaru became our get around car. And that's how we got the Rendezvous. I was getting around to picking up my new glasses and two desperately needed new bras. (I do not enjoy shopping, and I never budget time on purpose for it. I detest malls. I think that's what's wrong with this country: Walmart and malls. Have you ever seen a happy person at a Walmart or a mall?) But since I had to pick up my glasses, I figured I could drive on out and get something significantly less tired than my current undergarments were.

I found two bargain bras out at the "mall area" (not at the mall and not at Walmart) and I was sitting in the latest Lulu the Subaru at the stop light in front of Chuckie Cheese's thinking about my soon to be perkier figure and my authorly new glasses, when the loudest noise exploded me and next thing I knew a nice man was asking me if I was all right. I thought it odd that I should be lying flat on my back when I should have been sitting at a stop light. And my neck hurt and both of my hands were pins and needles.

Turns out the lady going forty mph in her nice big Mercedes didn't notice the red light, neither did she spot the Subaru stopped at it, nor the car stopped in front of the Subaru, or the two cars stopped in the other lane, and she didn't bother even stepping on her brake the tiniest bit, but instead let the back of my Subaru and the car in front of the Subaru do the stopping of her nice big Mercedes for her.

We think she had a habit of doing stuff like that, because she wasn't insured.

Those two bargain bras cost our insurance company somewhere in the neighborhood of $8,000.00 each.

Bill met me at the hospital. He had found my new glasses which had been on my face, back by the tail light in the way back of poor Lulu. She was totaled.

She had done her job of protecting me, and by some real honest miracle, I had not taken Mama Pajama with me. It was when she was too sick to go on even a short walk, and to make up for it, I'd take her in the car for little errands. Now, I'd written articles on the importance of having dogs secured in vehicles, since in even a minor fender bender a dog becomes a flying object and when it's dog versus windshield, the dog doesn't usually fare so very well. But to give Mama Pajama something to be happy about I had been ignoring my own advice and had been letting her ride shotgun.

I had, thank goodness, left her home that day, and I cannot think about what would have happened had I not. Sweet Mama Pajama is well enough to go on her walks now, and when she rides in a car or the van she is in a secured crate.

So my neck hurt a bit, but we had some big thing going on at the Kennel Club and I was to be there. It was about a week after the accident. Bill asked about another car. What kind should we get, since there were no Subaru dealers here. I hurt. I didn't care. It was up to him.

At the Kennel Club, Bill called my cell phone and said he'd found a car. A Buick. A Rhonda something or other. I didn't pay a whole lot of attention, but when I told my friends, they said, "A Rendezvous?" And their faces looked a little funny when they asked if I had ever seen a Rendezvous. (Dog people know every vehicle made which has room for crates in the back.)

I got home, and at that point my neck was screaming bad things at me, but I stopped dead in my tracks. My husband had bought a big Gremlin!

He came bounding out of the house, surrounded by clouds of excitement. "How do you like it?" he gushed.

"It's a Gremlin on steroids."

1970 AMC Gremlin photo from www.carpictures.com

"Oh that hurts my heart a little," he said.

But that Rendezvous has been a good car. Bill gloats when I put my crates in the Vous to save money on gas. There is a lot of room back there. And we drove it to a vineyard in Missouri on a fun trip with our dear neighbors and we laughed the whole two hours there and back. Bill giving the V sign to any other Rendezvous driver that passed, and calling it his Babe Machine.

And the dealer did take a big painting as partial payment, so that car is extra special to him.

Tomorrow the Vous will take me and Lindy Loo and Swede William to the Midwest Specialty. I didn't think I'd be going, but my friend Carolyn who's fighting the damn brain cancer is going to go. Crystal said the dogs and I can stay in her camper. And the Vous will drink a lot less gas than the van.

Bill's Babe Machine. I can't help but chuckle.

We'll be back Monday, but won't have Internet til then.

Hug your hounds

Dog Shows, Winners, Friends and an Award

Swede William, the handsome boy




We had shows this weekend down in Franklin, Tennessee, about a half hour south of Nashville. Bill is away, so I couldn't leave anyone home; we'd be gone way too long. Emmett, who lives with Heather and Jason and Baby Ben, was entered, and the exciting thing was that Heather was going to get to go and watch Emmett show for the first time in forever! We bemoaned the fact that since Heather would be present, the mean dog show gods would make sure that Emmett wouldn't win, but it would be a fun day, we would get to visit, and I would have help.

I loaded up the whole waggle, many of whom had assumed when I put on Dog Show Clothes in the dark that they would be left home and were thrilled to go and bounced and bounded and wooed and wagged and got ridiculously tangled and macromayed their leads between the gate and the van doors and celebrated life. We picked up Heather and Emmett and headed east and south. It had been such a long time since Mama Pajama had been in the crate behind my head, that I ate the whole muffin Heather brought without saving Mama Pajama a bite. I caught her look of utter dismay and disgust in my rearview mirror. Oh no!

We arrived in a quick three hours and walked the seven who weren't showing, gave them their biscuits and tucked them in, and headed into the building with the three show dogs: Emmett, Swede William, and Lindy Loo. It’s such fun to arrive at the whippet ring and to see whippet friends! And they were so relieved to see that I had brought my own dear helper. When I go alone with three dogs, then I have to rely on the kindness of people who wish they were strangers to hold my other two when I am in the ring with one. No big deal you say? These three dogs love to show. So when I am in the ring with one, the other two, erm, voice their displeasure at being outside of the ring instead of inside.

“There’s been a mistake! A gross error in judgment,” they scream. “I’m quite certain I should be in there! She’s utterly senile, you know. It must be my turn!” It’s not pretty, and eardrums have been shattered. Heather had been warned and was ready for the craziness.

Emmett went in first. He was very, very good, having neither shown nor practiced since August, for goodness sake. He got his first place ribbon, and his reward was for me to dash out of the ring, hand him in a blind rush to Heather, grab Swede William, and run back into the ring. The whole process took about twenty-five seconds.

[A little dog show primer – if you show, you can skip this. Dog show classes wait for no dog. If your class is called and you are not there, you lose. If your class is called and you are at the in gate fiddling with leashes and changing your armband number, you annoy your judge. Mightily. These judges are allotted about two minutes per dog and they might have 178 dogs to judge and they are standing in the heat/cold/rain on cement/mud/dirt and they have been doing it for about 100 years and if you are piddling around at the in gate and they are waiting oh they are not happy dog show judges and they sigh wearily and think unkind thoughts and bad words. There are several classes in each breed, divided by sex, for non-champions. The winners of each of the classes come back into the ring to compete against its sex for “Winners”. The one Winners Dog and one Winners Bitch are the only dogs of each breed to win points toward their Championship. The number of points they win depends on the number of dogs they defeat. Then the Winners Dog and Bitch go back in to compete with the Champions for Best of Breed. There is a language of dog shows: singles, majors, Winners, Best of Opposite, Breed, Specials, Group Ring, and on and on. It is baffling at first.]

We had found a wonderful volunteer to take Emmett back in the ring on the chance that William also won his class. He did. I stayed in the ring with William for Winners and the sweet volunteer grabbed Emmett from Heather (now Lindy Loo was really annoyed) and came in the ring behind William. Emmett thought he should be with me, but was a good, good boy. So we’re running around in the final go round and the judge points to someone behind me for Winners. The sweet girl who had Emmett passed behind me and said, “Sorry.” I thought she was leaving the ring, apologizing for Emmett wanting to be with me. The normal protocol when you don’t win is to quickly say congratulations to the winner and get out of the ring. Emphasis on ‘quickly’ and ‘get out’. I was confused. I paused. I looked at my friends behind me. “Who?” I asked. “Your dog,” they cried! “Not me, he didn’t point to me,” I said, looking as befuddled as I felt. “Your Bred By dog,” they yelled, pointing at Emmett and generously not adding DUMMY! I turned to see Emmett and his handler and the judge standing in the Winners spot and I jumped up and down. Yay! Yay! The dog show gods had indeed been kind and Heather got to see her puppy win! “Yay, oh yay,” I jumped and shouted and turned to smile at Heather! (The “sorry” had been for beating William in Winners, thinking that I had wanted William to win, which of course wasn’t the case, but was the source of my great confusion.)




“Get out of the ring,” shouted everyone else! Oops.

The drive home is always so much shorter when you’re laughing with a friend the whole way.

We had to leave at 5:40 the next morning, and I didn’t see why Heather should have to wake up at oh dark thirty simply to hand me her dog. She was staying home to enjoy Baby Ben’s Easter with family. Here is where Saint Dee comes in. Saint Dee went with me on Easter Sunday just to help. Saint Dee got up at oh dark thirty and spent six plus hours in the van and held the Screaming Meme’s ringside just to be kind. And this is not the first time she has done this. Saint Dee does not even own a whippet, though she is a dear beloved Auntie to the waggle. How lucky am I? How lucky?

Emmett, Swede William, and Lindy Loo doing zoomies in the yard

So, Emmett had spent the night on Saturday and he noticed that his sissy Lindy Loo had matured since he last saw her. And he had missed the whole thing. And he was a Very Horny Whippet. On Sunday at the show, Emmett did not mind not being with me. But he minded intensely being separated from his sexy (in his male adolescent brain only) sissy. Dee not only had to hold the screaming meme’s, she had to prevent ringside Consummation of Decidedly Unbrotherly Acts, which Emmett was quite determined to commit. And when Emmett was in the ring with me, he made it clear that he needed desperately to be out with Lindy Loo. And another friend took him in for Winners, but today was Swede William’s day and he won!

Each of the boys got a little closer to their championships, and it was a grand weekend and I’m indebted to good people. Sam I Am thinks I forgot him and he tried to remind me that he is the star and should be doing agility when we gave him a little walk around the show grounds before we left. I told him it would be his turn again soon. But all the dogs were so delighted to go, and I could not have done it by myself.

Today the dogs are sleeping it off. And I am writing this long story to say thank you.


And we got a fun award from our friend Koobuss! We are Totally Hip! (Clearly, this only applies to the whippets and not, after the above story, the Senile Servant!)



We are going to pass it on to Rudy, who is a Bedlington which is hip to begin with, and he does Agility, which is even hipper, and he takes in rescues which is the hippest!
And we would like to pass it on the The Canine Kids, with whom we are discovering we have a great deal in common, and if we are hip, they must be too!


Hug your hounds