I had been bullied much of my junior year in high school and reached “critical mass” the day my tormenter threw a fork at me during lunch and narrowly missed my eye. It was the final straw of a difficult year and I’d had enough. I hoisted a leg over the picnic-table bench and stood up, smoothed down the pleats of my Catholic school uniform skirt, walked to the table where Mary Gavin sat and yanked her off her seat with the ferocity of a wolverine.

And then I decked her.

She hit back – I counterpunched – she head-butted me. And then things got really serious.

We started to fight like girls.

Rolling around the floor of the school cafeteria, we slapped, scratched, bit and punched each other silly. It took four nuns to separate us, another two keep us apart. We were marched to the school office like criminals, our classmates apoplectic with shock.  The small Catholic high school had never seen anything like it, and to this day, it remains the only time I was ever in a brawl, let alone one I started.

Mary Gavin had made my life a living hell and I was ill equipped to deal with a bully like her, but seeing her leave school with a black eye would have given me some closure and I aimed to give her one. The experience forever shaped my definition of what a bully is and isn’t, and I would have been happy to leave the miserable memory buried in the past had it not been for a comment made to a recent article that made me ask myself: Are there bullies at dog shows, too?

The comment was left by a reader named “Kara” in response to my piece, “Is the Dog Fancy at a Tipping Point.”  In it, she described an experience she felt was a reason the fancy is in trouble. She had been a lifelong dog owner when she purchased a puppy good enough to show. Kara entered the world of conformation a complete novice, excited at the chance to realize a childhood dream of owning a show dog. She took conformation classes, and at only her second show, her dog won its first point by besting a dog exhibited by a professional handler. Kara remembered the day: “Suddenly, all of that joy was destroyed when the handler started screaming at me…[she] continued to terrorize me for the next five months until I walked away from dog shows just points away from my dog’s championship.”

As dog fanciers, we’ve all likely experienced or witnessed the occasional display of poor sportsmanship or fierce gamesmanship, but in my view, Kara experienced true bullying: She was targeted and subjected to repeated, relentless, and consistent harassment that resulted in a bully’s end game:

She cried “uncle.”  She walked away from the sport.

Novices to dog shows often feel out of their element and unprepared to deal with aggressive competitors; In a “balance of power,” they’re sometimes perceived to be the weak end of the equation, and bullies target people they believe won’t fight back. This changes if a novice’s dog tilts the balance of power in their favor, and therein lies the rub.

Ours is one of the few sports in which novices compete with professionals which can make for misunderstandings and hard feelings. An exhibitor chasing breed rankings or group points doesn’t always exude the “warm and fuzzies” to the competitor behind them who either doesn’t have as much at stake or may be someone struggling just to understand ring directions. To that end, I suspect some exhibitors do have more perceived “power” than others by virtue of their experience, the quality of their dog – or, in the eyes of some, politics.

Bullying can be done in person, behind one’s back, on the Internet, in clubs or at a dog show, and people from professional handlers and “newbies” to club members or judges can be bullies and recipients.

No one likes to lose, and as a rule, I believe that when most exhibitors fall short of a win, they leave the ring disappointed but ready to face another day. They shrug their shoulders and mutter, “It’s a dog show.” Some take it harder and fume the rest of the day -  but they do recover.

For a bully like Kara’s, however, suffering a loss is deeply threatening, often because their self-esteem is determined by the success of their dog – a significant burden for the dog!  Not content to let a judge’s decision be the final word, a bully has to consistently diminish the other handler or their dog in order to justify their loss. In kindergarten terms, a bully is the person who has to blow out a competitor’s candle repeatedly in order for their own to burn more brightly. It doesn’t matter if the winners or losers are novices, professional handlers or fanciers at the dog show for fun – bullies and their victims come in all shapes and sizes.

George Alston has said in his handling seminars that common handler tricks include “accidentally” blocking a judge’s view of a competitor’s dog, crowding and flustering a novice, or starting a group gait around the ring before other handlers are ready to move their dogs. Are these really “tricks,” are they displays of poor sportsmanship, or are they the tactics of a bully?

Perceptions of bullying varies from person to person and if we’re being really honest, sometimes where we sit on the “teeter-totter” of success in the show ring determines whether we feel we’re the victims, or if we really are the bully we’ve been accused of being. In a competitive sport, is it really fair to hold a serious competitor responsible for the feelings of other exhibitors in the ring? Conversely, is it really necessary for a handler hell bent on winning to resort to ugliness and intimidation? Isn’t the sport supposed to be about the dogs?

Some bullies are typically a bundle of insecurities for whom terrorizing others is about power and control. They pick on people to feel better about themselves and often single out people in their own breed in order to be the bigger fish in their own pond. Sometimes, what threatens them has nothing to do with dogs. They could be threatened by a competitor’s popularity among peers, the importance of their job in a breed club, or a long held grudge from something that happened years ago.

Other bullies feel rather good about themselves. Masterful manipulators, they may be well connected with judges, AKC reps or show chairmen who never see the face a bully shows to his or her victim. Surrounded by peers only too happy not to be at the receiving end of their menacing, the bully is rarely challenged and never called out for bad behavior. This, a bully interprets as a tacit endorsement of their actions. Bullies continue to bully because they can.

If you feel you’re the victim of a dog show bully, it’s important to do a bit of soul searching to rule out jealousy or your own sensitive nature in a competitive sport.  It’s also essential to recognize that “gamesmanship” is not the same as bullying.

If, however, the same person consistently, repeatedly and unrelentingly intimidates you over a period of time by harassing you, diminishing your wins, your dog, or you personally, I believe you are the victim of bullying, and it’s no laughing matter. In the paper, Counseling and Human Development, author, Barry K. Weinhold, maintains that bullying is the most common form of violence in contemporary American society. If more fanciers realized that one of their own is suffering at the hands of another, they should also realize that they are as good as complicit by saying nothing.

• How many junior handlers are learning that it’s “okay” when they see the adults doing it?

• How many dogs are suffering at the hands of bullies who, with no human target in sight, take it out on the dog?

• How many good people has the sport lost because of dog show bullies?

If you are in a position of authority and a complaint of bullying reaches your ears – please listen to the complaint with an open mind no matter how well you think you know the accused bullier. With your position comes an expectation of fairness. For the rest of us, no matter how much we may dislike a person or secretly feel that they “have it coming,” no one deserves to be humiliated, intimidated or harassed every time the same person comes into their midst. It’s bad for the sport, hurts the fancy at a time clubs are hemorrhaging membership numbers, and inflicts untold misery. It takes real courage to stand up to a bully, to overcome the fear of being their next victim, or to suffer the politics of alliances – and in the dog show game, I fully understand that more is at risk than just one’s personal discomfort. At the end of the day, however, is it any less callous to look away from a person’s silent suffering than to cast our eyes away from a dog being mistreated?

At the end of the day, we need to do right by our animals, by our sport, and by our fellow fanciers. At the end of the day, we each need to do the right thing.

A shortened version of this article first appeared in the May 2013 issue of Dogs In Review magazine.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I was an hour away from sheer terror when the photograph below was taken.

I’m the one without the mustache

Here I am on live TV thirty minutes later – still oblivious to what was coming.

All I had to do was hold a sign and smile. Piece of cake

As a writer for the PBS affiliate in Denver, I was recruited to write scripts for the annual art auction fundraiser. The work was enjoyable until our Executive Director would show up, a woman so high up on the totem pole as to be in the nose bleed section of movers and shakers. Intense, driven, and humorless, she was a veritable institution in the world of Public Television Broadcasting. Most of us were terrified of her.

Big ticket items alone warranted her appearance as an auctioneer on camera, and her entrance into our midst signaled that it was time for a major piece of art to be moved. As she strode past my small group, she paused long enough to curl a finger and wiggle it at me to follow. When we stopped, she instructed me to feed her information about the piece she was about to auction, then turned me by the shoulders to face a television camera seconds away from transmitting us live to millions of viewers.

To this day, I’ve never known such terror.

I was about to humiliate an important woman on live TV because I didn’t have information about a piece of art I hadn’t seen. I was pretty sure I would never work again. Seconds evaporated off the clock as panic gripped me. I couldn’t breathe and considered clutching my chest and gasping, “It’s the big one,” before collapsing at her feet. I was “this close” to  playing with the woman’s dangling earring to feign insanity when the floor director suddenly held up three fingers of her hand, then two, and finally just one as she mouthed, “You’re on!”

About the time the camera light blinked from red to green, a tiny voice in my throbbing head whispered:  ”Look – at – the – painting.”

I looked at it. And then something glorious happened. I recognized the artist. I knew this piece!  My life wasn’t over after all. I would live to experience fear another day.

Fear that would come at dog shows.

The terror I experienced in front of the camera that night was justified – I could have lost my job. I’ve never fully understood, however, why some of us (okay, me) are sometimes gripped by nerves before entering a ring at a dog show that we paid money to enter for fun on purpose. There’s been no rhyme or reason for my own jitters. I’ve had butterflies when mine was the only dog entered in the breed, but have also felt completely calm the times I’ve competed in Best in Show rings.

What the heck?

I became so fed up with what amounted to stage fright at one show that I bought a bottle of Rescue Remedy for myself an hour before entering the ring. I wasn’t sure which was worse: Surreptitiously chugging the stuff behind a dumpster, or cackling like a lunatic to myself at how bad this must have looked. The Rescue Remedy didn’t help, nor did my state of anxiety bode well for a promise I’d made to a friend to show his terrier at Westminster the following year. I’d never shown a terrier before, let alone at the Super Bowl of dog shows. What had I been thinking when I agreed to help him? I fretted over the promise for months -  but when the time came, I strode onto the green carpet under the lights of Madison Square Garden with confidence and inner peace.

It was infuriating. Why couldn’t I be this calm in my own breed ring?

I came to recognize a pattern in the times I felt flustered going into a show ring. When I entered the ring at Westminster with my friend’s terrier and looked at the other exhibitors, I remember thinking, “Not my people, not my breed.” If we did lose, I had nothing to lose. Similar thinking went into my Best in Show experiences;  I was showing an uncommon breed at a time it wasn’t getting much attention in group judging. In my heart, I felt I’d already won just by being among the seven dogs left standing at the end of the day.

If having nothing to lose was at the root of my nervousness, did this mean that I felt I had everything to lose the times I was nervous?  And if so, what exactly did I stand to lose?

I’ve come to decide that for many of us, nervousness isn’t caused by fear of our dog being judged. It’s caused by subliminal fear over our being judged by our peers. If there is nothing so sweet as recognition among our own, surely the flip side is looking like a loser in front of that same group. At the risk of speaking “psycho-babble” with the psychology degree I just now gave myself, could nervousness equate to fear of showing vulnerability, and ultimately, risking rejection by people whose good opinion we want, if not value?

Click to enlarge

As children, we perform for our families with confidence and boldness because we know that no matter how goofy we look, we’ll still be loved unconditionally. In the dog fancy, however, acceptance by our peers sometimes feels conditional upon the value of our dog. Put another way, everyone loves a winner. Some years ago,  a dog I’d bred and showed did a lot of winning, and I privately marveled at the “friends” I was accumulating with every group placement. People I didn’t know would hang around or escort me to the show photographer and hold spray bottles or point out a misplaced foot. It was baffling – and seductive. Relatively speaking, I hadn’t been showing dogs as long as many people in my breed whom I respected. I had the remarkably good fortune, however,  of recognizing that no matter how much my dog won, there were people who would always know more than I did, and that was humbling. If I hadn’t had this realization, however, if I thought my value hinged on my dog’s success, suddenly I’d have a lot riding on winning and it wouldn’t be about the dog anymore. Winning would be about me.

As discouraging at it was at the time, showing an uncommon breed kept me grounded since I probably walked out of more rings than I stayed in to collect a ribbon or rosette. I became philosophical about showing in group which probably accounts for the level of comfort I have in that ring now. The breed ring, however, is a different matter. It’s personal. Friends and not-friends are inside the breed ring or outside of it watching. To use a tortured analogy, the ad line, “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” is great if you don’t live in Vegas. But if Vegas is your home, you never escape what happens there. A breed ring is like Vegas. We remember what happens there.  All of us.

Few of us mind losing to a better dog, but there’s no worse feeling than knowing that something we did or didn’t do kept a worthy dog out of the ribbons – and that will cause nervousness, too.  If by now you’ve gotten the feeling that it’s all a vicious cycle, you’re right. Nervousness begets nervousness. How on earth do we break the cycle?

Different things work for different people, but I know what has never worked for me: Rescue Remedy, for one thing. Professional handler, George Alston’s suggestion to visualize also never helped, mostly because my vivid imagination conjured up images of me gliding around the ring with ease just before flying monkeys pecked at my head and tripped me causing my skirt to fly over my head and get snagged on my front teeth. Breathing exercises, meditation, singing a little song – these all failed me.

So what has been helpful? What might you consider trying to conquer your own heebie-jeebies?

• First, know that you’re not alone. How many of us are good at parallel parking when nobody’s watching, but when a spouse or in-law is in the car, we choke? Barbara Streisand couldn’t perform live for 27 years after forgetting some lyrics, and John Lennon was known to throw up before going on stage. That “game face” we see on a fellow competitor just might be the expression of someone beating back their own nerves. If misery loves company, know that some of your competition is nervous, too;

• Know what you’re doing in the ring. Being insecure or a little “fuzzy” on how to perform an “L” pattern with your dog only makes jitters worse, so try to eliminate surprises. Also, know what to expect from your judge. Show up early at a ring in which the judge is working and study how her or she runs it. Minimize surprises;

• As crazy as it sounds, don’t fight the fear. Start thinking of your anxiety as a sign that you’re amped up, not freaked out. Coupled with my next suggestion, embracing your edginess can be an advantage;

• The single most helpful suggestion I’ve ever gotten just might work for you, too;  Handle your dog in slow motion. Nervous people tend to move like a bird: fast, jerky, and anything but fluid. It’s unattractive, makes your dog feel that you’re out of control, and feeds anxiety. Handling in slow motion admittedly feels goofy at first, but in reality, it causes us to move at a more normal rate of speed and can actually slow down our heart rate. This is especially helpful when setting up a dog for examination;

• Listening to an effective CD en route to a dog show is as helpful as having an “coach” in the car teaching you coping tools. “That Winning Feeling” is written by Jane Savoie, an U.S. Olympic dressage squad member, and while she’s an equestrienne, her techniques translate nicely into all competitive sports including dog shows.  Dr. Claire Weeks’ “Pass Through the Panic,” is like having a kind and wise grandmother whisper in your ear. Her CD doesn’t target performance anxiety, but she speaks compassionately about how to overcome anxiety with tips that can work anywhere. And finally, a reader suggests “Positively Ringwise” by the late Patty Ruzzo. Patty was an obedience competitor, but her advice works well for any kind of performance anxiety, including public speaking and the conformation ring.

• While George Alston’s “visualization” technique may not have been a good “fit” for me, his suggestion to eat mints was. Alston’s theory is that mints mask the odor of adrenaline which telegraphs our nervousness to our dogs. From a bit of additional reading, I learned that anxiety can put a bad taste in a person’s mouth, and that many people aren’t aware they had one until it’s suddenly gone. Perhaps a mint serves as an oral “cue” to our body that we’re no longer apprehensive. Chewing on a “curiously strong” Altoid is, to understate it, distracting, anyway. Chew through the contents of eight boxes of the stuff and you’ll have forgotten that you were ever even nervous. Also, that you ever had a tongue or mucous membranes in your mouth.

My final suggestion is not one I’ve tried but have read about. In a study that appeared in the Journal of Experimental Psychology, researchers discovered that athletes who clenched the fist of of their non-dominant hand (or squeezed a ball) before competition were less likely to “choke.” Why?  Because in the case of someone right-handed,  the left side of their body is controlled by the right side of their brain, and increasing activity in the right hemisphere decreases activation in the left hemisphere. Simply put: Squeeze a ball.

As a fan of owner/handled dogs, I’m saddened that too many people I know stay out of a show ring because of nervousness, if not abject terror. It’s hard to be encouraging if you’ve ever known what it feels like to be so terrified that you’re content to watch your dog from afar (or fake a heart attack on camera), but if there’s a chance that one of these suggestions might help – please consider trying it. Never, never, never give up.

As a prelude to a more serious piece about ring nerves coming soon, here’s a lighthearted approach to the subject: The Top Ten Ways to Combat Ring Nerves:

1) As you enter the ring, slip your hand into the judge’s hand and mutter, “I’m scared.” Any judge worth his or her salt will offer you a calming moment to enjoy milk and cookies before requesting a complicated “down and back” ring pattern. If the judge is uncooperative, have the steward put an arm around your shoulders and walk you through the ring pattern. Draw a line on your palm as a “cheat sheet” reminder to help you remember how to execute a “down and back;”

2) Include a flask of Stoli vodka as part of the grooming tools you take into the ring. If you prefer to be more discreet, use a spray bottle (what do you think is in all those spray bottles that handlers carry?) When the moment comes for a calming spritz, even if in the middle of the individual examination, explain that it’s “medicinal” and that if you don’t moisten your teeth and gums that minute, your skin will erupt into pustules followed by projectile vomiting. No one will deny you;

3) Take your favorite childhood stuffed animal into the ring with you, the one that always comforted you from monsters under the bed (or in this case, from a person wearing a badge reading, “judge” who’s empowered to give you a five cent ribbon). Pretend it’s a toy for the dog and try not to get caught when viciously ripping the toy away from the bewildered dog and verbally lashing out that this is your BooBooBear, not his;

4) Slip your cell phone into your bait bag with your therapy standing by on “hold” to talk you through any anxiety, say, after your dog has been given Best of Opposite Sex to a dog of the same gender;

5) Think of other things while in the ring. As other dogs are being examined, think about, oh, a favorite movie like Titanic. Remember Rose’s lovely clothes, Jack’s efforts to teach her how to spit, and that nasty iceberg in the distance. Just as the judge approaches your dog, scream, “We’ve hit! May Day May Day May Day, We’re going down!” and run shrieking out of the ring. I promise, you’ll never remember having been nervous, and the judge (also the steward, other exhibitors and every spectator) will never forget you;

6)  Eliminating reminders of your inner terror helps to remove the actual terror, so never let them see you sweat. One can do no better at sealing one’s “pits” against profuse perspiration than Varathane Polyeurothane Sealant – far more effective than Right Guard or Secret. You’ll never be seen with unsightly wet spots under your arms again, in large part because you’ll never be seen raising your arms again. Ever.

7) Total anonymity empowers even the most nervous among us. Punch two eye holes into a paper bag and enter the ring as the “unknown handler.” For complete discretion, make a bag for the dog’s head, too.

8)  Learn your own stress points and carry acupuncture needles into the ring for stress relief. Insert as needed. Though you may resemble a hedgehog by the time ribbons are awarded, most everyone will concur that the 5″ needle protruding from your forehead is likely a distraction from the 8″ one sticking out of your eye;

9) Focus on distracting feats of physical dexterity when feeling anxiety about to overcome you. By all means, bring a clicker in the ring, but use your tongue to make it “clack.” Never mind that virtually everyone else in the ring is alarmed by your gnawing mouth gestures, you will be the calmest person in the ring. Also, the one entirely drenched in their own drool;

10) Primal scream therapy is highly effective at alleviating tension. When the judge asks for a triangle, reply, TO THAT CORNER?, and as you gait, talk to your dog to reassure him, too: “WHAT A REALLY GOOD JOB YOU’RE DOING! WHAT A GOOD DOG. HERE COMES THAT NASTY CORNER, NOT TOO FAST NOW – HERE WE GO. WELL DONE, BOY, IT’S TIME TO GO BACK TO THE JUDGE NOW.WET YOUR LIPS AND SMILE, BOY. “

Don’t thank me now.

For some days now, I’ve been pondering a series of exchanges I had on NBC News’ Facebook page, and more specifically, in response to the Today Show’s “report” on the AKC.  For those just tuning in, the Today Show ran a segment last week called the “Rossen Report” which alleged that the AKC wasn’t doing enough to protect dogs. The report all but said that the AKC was complicit in condoning cruelty by giving its “inspector’s stamp of approval” to abysmally substandard kennels.

A few of the comments made on Jeff Rossen’s Facebook page regarding his “report.”

Just so that you know, I’m not “going there” tonight. We all have opinions on whether the Report was a “hit piece” intended to boost the HSUS, the first volley in a battle to promote the inspection of hobby breeders by the Dept. of Agriculture instead of the AKC, or a bit of dirty AKC laundry that needed airing. It’s safe to say that whatever the opinion of dog fanciers, the majority of them found the report to be biased and one-sided. Most of us recognize that average viewers who saw the piece remain unaware that the AKC’s main function is as a registry, a fact that NBC didn’t especially drive home. Nor is it likely that Today Show viewers will have ever read the statement the AKC released a day later, The Facts The Today Show Didn’t Tell You, let alone hear of it from NBC since balanced reporting doesn’t seem to be the media’s mandate anymore.

In the Rossen Report, there was something to offend everyone beyond charges of neglect which is an affront to all dog lovers; for me, it was the appearance of a tanned, mild mannered and grinning Wayne Pacelle assuming the role of arbiter, all-knowing of what is in the best interest of dogs.  As CEO of the Humane Society of the United States, Pacelle oversees the group’s $100 million annual budget which thus far has done more to support anti-farmer, anti-ethical dog breeder legislation than to help local pet shelters care for the animals in their charge. Tax records Form #990 shows that of the $133 million donated to the HSUS last year, only $6 million went to help the “paws on the ground.” This is nothing of which to be proud.  Neither was HSUS’ silence on legislation that resulted in the killing of thousands of innocent dogs. Isn’t it curious how NBC left that part out.

There he was, Wayne Pacelle, Champion of Pets.  Where was he when Denver enacted its Pit Bull ban and 1,4541 Pit Bull Terriers (or any dog that “appeared” to be more than 50% Pit Bull) were killed between 2005 and 2006 alone?

The huge number of euthanized animals created enormous piles of dead dogs on the grounds of Denver’s Animal Shelter. A photograph of one such heap was taken by an anonymous photographer who “leaked” it to Westword Magazine (Warning: Link leads to disturbing photographs) which published it in 2009. It’s the same picture I posted on NBC News’ Facebook page earlier this week in response to the Today Show report. I posted it because I was angry. I’m angry still at the breed specific ban. I’m angry that so many innocent dogs, including a new Pit Bull mom and her entire litter of week old puppies, were killed for no reason other than being born their breed. And I’m angry at NBC’s hypocrisy in giving the HSUS a pass while going after the AKC.  I posted the deeply disturbing photograph for the fans who bashed the AKC and praised HSUS. I wanted them to see what, in my view, real cruelty looks like, and to show them that breed specific bans have consequences.

Predictably, many fans were saddened, if not horrified, at the image of dead dogs.  A couple of fans, however, were furious. They were enraged not with NBC, not with the AKC,  not with the HSUS, and not with the horror of what this photograph showed. They were furious with me for having posted it.  Didn’t I realize, they asked with an accusatory tone, that I had played right into the hands of radical Animal Rights activists by posting such a shocking photograph?

I found this a curious misplacement of anger.  The kindest word I can use to describe the photograph is “obscene,” and yet I was faulted more for posting it than the City of Denver was for causing it. The more I thought about it, the more irony I found in their rage.

Over the years, various animal rights groups like PETA have employed shock tactics to drive home their agenda. When one print ad featured a slaughtered human wrapped up in cellophane and styrofoam like a pork chop to protest meat eating,  we muttered about the crazy animal rights people.

The Animal Rights groups want you to see this and think, “Hmmm, it’s what’s for dinner.”

When the organization insisted that ice cream maker, Ben & Jerry’s use human breast milk as an alternative to cow’s milk in their products, we rolled our eyes at the crazy animal rights people. When they urged the British music duo, Pet Shop Boys, to relabel themselves the Rescue Shelter Boys, we said the crazy animal rights people were at it again. Now they’re telling Muslims how to live with a website promoting vegetarianism by using quotations from the Qur’an while bashing “Westernized factory-farming methods.” Can you imagine the fallout if the AKC promoted dog ownership among Muslims in the same way?

Two words: Double Standard. And yet it works. For them.

Offensive any way you look at it.

Another tactic I’ve noticed that animal rights zealots are very good at using is deflection when their views are challenged, even obliquely. Case in Point: When a show dog made news in February for allegedly having been poisoned at a notable dog show, social media buzzed with speculation about the circumstances of the dog’s death. Instead of being horrified by the dog’s death, self described animal rights activists and shelter/rescue advocates were more incensed that the dog had been debarked than that it had died a difficult death. Reading their comments would have made most people conclude that being debarked was the cause of death. Never a demographic to miss out on making the most of a tragedy, these special interest groups protested the loudest over a procedure that’s less invasive than a routine spay/neuter because it’s part of the agenda. Misdirected and uninformed anger.

Is it possible that the women who were so upset with me over the Facebook photograph weren’t as sympathetic to the AKC as they portrayed themselves to be? Is it even conceivable that they were HSUS “plants” trolling NBC’s Facebook page?  I have no idea, but their wrath would suddenly make sense if they were angrier at having the tables turned on them using their own shock tactics than they were over the fact that Denver has killed thousands of dogs, most of whom were once family pets.

Given the inroads animal rights groups have made in the last fifteen years, it seems to me that “crazy” works. “Shocking” works. If the photograph I posted opened a few eyes to the ugliness of breed specific legislation, maybe it’s time to be more shocking. Maybe it’s time to use the Facebook pages of those who work towards the demise of our sport to our advantage.

Dog fanciers have always been above the fray. Maybe it’s time to rock the boat.

I spoke my mind the other day, or to be more accurate, I tapped into my inner child and spoke her mind.

It happened when a dog and his owner joined me at a street corner to wait for a traffic light to change. As a rule, I’m able to identify most breeds on sight, but I was hard pressed to name this one. Was this some new designer breed concoction, I wondered, or a horribly bred version of an established breed.

I had to know.

I smiled at the owner, cooed at her dog and then asked: “What is he?“

“Oh,” the owner gushed, “He’s a Rescue Malamute.”

And that’s when I lost my mind.  “Oh, is that different from a regular Malamute?” I inquired.

Damn, but it felt good to say it.

Evidently, however, I wasn’t done. As the words came tumbling out of my mouth, they had actual hang time. If I hadn’t felt my lips forming them, I would have looked around to see who was saying this stuff. To my horror, I continued.

“You know,” I said cheerfully, “I know someone who shows their Malamutes. I show my dogs, too. And to be honest with you, a lot of us are getting tired of the guilt we seem expected to feel for not owning a rescue dog.”

To the woman’s credit, she absorbed this information, looked at her dog and muttered something about not having meant to offend me. Now it was my turn to feel bad.

The light changed and we went our separate ways, but I’ve been thinking about the exchange ever since.

I’d been sharp with a woman who didn’t have it coming. I’m pretty sure she was a good-hearted person who believed she was doing the right thing by taking in a dog who needed a home. What struck me about what she said, however, wasn’t what she said, but how she said it. Rescue Malamute. Coming out of her mouth, the two words fit together as snugly as “good morning,” “thank you,” and “I’m sorry.” She’d said “Rescue Malamute” the way a dog fancier would have said “Alaskan Malamute.” She’d said it as if the two words belonged together.

Wouldn’t it be nice if this is what people mentally picture when they hear the term, “rescue dog?”

When I first started hearing the “rescue” term nearly ten years ago, it was always said in a way that hinted at more than a dog’s origins. It was a statement: I own a Rescue Dog. I care more. I’m more politically correct. I’m morally superior. End game: I’m better than you are.

When the woman with the dog said “Rescue Malamute,” however, I didn’t sense that she had intended it to be a statement. She’d said it as if it were a natural part of her dog’s identify, and that’s what alarmed me.

The term has wormed its way into the lexicon of dog ownership so thoroughly that it no longer makes people think twice about using it. It’s ingrained. It’s natural.

And it’s dangerous.

Just today, I was told about individuals who show their dogs and run a boarding facility. They’d become so tired of dealing with “the looks,” the admonishments, and maybe even the loss of business from rescue-dog-owning clients upon hearing that their dogs came from breeders that when asked, they now simply reply that their dogs are rescues.  Let me make sure you understand what I just said: Purebred dog owners lying about where their dogs came from to avoid confrontation and grief.

Call me melodramatic, but to deny that one’s dog came from a responsible breeder is like denying that you know the parents who raised you. In my estimation, these people have caved to political correctness and are hurting our “cause” in a way far more damaging than they might realize.

To put this another way, it would never occur to parents to identify their baby as adopted. To those parents, that adopted baby is their child  and that’s all anyone needs to know.

Inasmuch as I know that our companions are “just dogs,” why do less for them? Why reduce a rescue dog to be not much different than a badge of political correctness?

The more I’ve thought about this, the more I’m glad that I responded as I did to the Malamute owner. Perhaps it’s time more of us challenge the self-righteous rescue dog owner with a thought-provoking response to their dog’s “rescuedness.”

Recently while at a vet’s office, “Susi” (from a different set of parents) ran into the proud owners of island dogs they had adopted while on vacation. Susi shared their pride by agreeing how nice it was to know where one’s dogs came from. Pointing out one of her Siberian Huskies to the couple, Susi continued: “I can trace her pedigree all the way back to the original dogs imported from Siberia.” Susi said later, “Crickets. After I said that, all I heard was crickets.”

The rare “island dog.”

I’m not suggesting that we be “snarky” about this (which I fear I was with the Malamute owner). We need all dog owners to be allies in battling against unreasonable, unrealistic and untenable animal legislation. I’m of the opinion, however, that the time has come to provoke rescue dog owners into thinking about what they’re saying. I want to reach the rescue owner who really doesn’t know or care about the political implications of owning a rescue dog, but who has inherited a moniker for her dog that does pack a political verbal punch. For those owners who like the moral high ground of owning a rescue dog – forget them. They have bigger problems than our wrath.

In the future, I’m going to pick my moment and say to the next person who tells me they have a rescue purebred, “Thank you on behalf of the people who show and love this breed for working alongside them. Thirty-three percent of purebred dogs rescued out of shelters are saved by someone acting on behalf of their breed club.”

Let them chew on that for awhile.

Since I prefer to end on a cheerful note, I throw myself on the sword by revealing how not to remember what to say when you really need to say it.

When my daughter had reached the age of make-up and skin care , she asked me to purchase a product made by a company I’d never heard of. It was called, “Kiss My Face.”  I was never going to remember this. Revlon, L’Oreal, Clinique, these I could remember.  Kiss my Face????

As I headed to the store, I kept repeating the name in my head. Kiss my face. Kiss my face. Kiss my face.  I wandered up and down the aisle looking for “Kiss my Face” and not finding it: I didn’t want to disappoint my daughter by not being “hip” to what her generation was using for skin care, this is what mothers do, right?  Kiss my face. Kiss my face.

Finally, a store clerk approached me because I clearly looked lost – and when she asked me what she could help me find, I blurted out, “Kiss my ass!”

Don’t be that person.

And yes, that really happened.

There was a time when I could keep eight plates spinning at the end of eight poles all at once while balancing a checkbook.

Okay. I lie. I’ve never been able to balance a checkbook.

As for the spinning plates thing, admittedly that’s a metaphor for being able to juggle a lot of things at the same time. It took an energy level I no longer choose to expend in so many different directions, but while I’ve cut down on the number of things I have going, the projects themselves require more time and greater concentration: Staying current with my writing, maintaining a small business, showing my dogs, and cycling to stave off decrepitude.

Most people don’t have to think very hard while riding a bike, but I do.  I’ll never completely shake off the nasty accident my husband and I had a couple of years ago. I got my first “shiner” in that wreck, and two weeks later took it to Westminster where I learned that men don’t like to walk alongside a woman with a black eye. I guess it’s a “guy thing.”

Eukanuba, Westminster, the flu, and six weeks of lousy weather kept me off a road bike until yesterday – and while it felt great to be “back in the saddle again,” I often felt like this kid as I slugged my way through twenty one gears and unforgiving hills.

It wasn’t pretty, but I like to think I’m on the road to a trimmer and fitter me. Do I look like I’ve lost weight to you in the picture below?

Created by Eric Tryon, reprinted with permission

In addition to my cycling, something else I’ve neglected are Product Reviews for DogKnobit.  Luckily, the timing of my Puli’s biological clock afforded me a good opportunity to test something I’d been reading about: Pheromone based calming sprays, but first, meet the real product testers:

“Katie” is on the left, and at the right is “Maci.” A few weeks ago, they had a love that “dared not speak its name.” Plainly put, Katie was in season and Maci lost his mind.

Because I work from home, I was able to keep a vigilant eye on the pair, but if you’ve ever had to share a house with a hormonal dog, you know there’s a week when you don’t sleep. I became desperate for a remedy. The old stand-by’s – Vicks Vapor Rub, vanilla, chlorophyll – these have never worked for me.  I remembered reading about dog appeasing pheromones said to calm dogs with anxiety-related problems ranging from a fear of thunderstorms to visiting the vet.  Secreted by the sebaceous glands found in nursing bitches, these pheromones induce feelings of well-being and comfort to nursing puppies. French veterinarian, Patrick Pageat, wondered if the same pheromones could ease anxiety and stress in adult dogs based on the theory that dogs remember smells through adulthood. A study done in 2005 showed that puppies in a training class fitted with pheromone collars were later found to have less behavioral problems and were more sociable than puppies who didn’t get the collar. But in a 2010 issue of the Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association, a review of DAP (Dog Appeasing Pheromones) concluded that while researchers couldn’t definitively declare that pheromone therapy didn’t work, neither could they say that it had any benefits based on their best evidence (Frank,D. Beauchamp,G. Palestrini,C. Systematic review of the use of pheromones for treatment of undesirable behavior in cats and dogs. J.Am.Vet.Med.Assoc., 2010, 236, 12, 1308-1316).

I didn’t care. I wanted to sleep and was ready to try anything.  I staggered into my nearest pet supply store, leaned on the counter, and weakly said, “help me.” Thinking back on it, I suspect now I must have sounded like the tiny-voiced, human-headed insect in the 1958 movie, The Fly. 

“Help me?”

I bought an 8 ounce bottle of Nature Vet’s “Quiet Moments” spray because, to be honest with you, that’s what the store carried. Like any good dog person, I inspected the ingredient panel:  Special Proprietary Blend of Fragrance Extracts (Simulated Canine Pheromones) Sodium Lauryl Sulfate (0.5%)Rosemary Oil (0.2%) Clove Oil (0.1%). Inert Ingredients:  Purified Water. It wasn’t lost on me that rosemary and clove oils carry a hefty punch in the fragrance department making me wonder about the pheromone’s actual contribution to the product. I didn’t care. Blubbering from a lack of sleep, I would’ve used the spray had the ingredient panel read: putrified fish (48%) Stench of Wench (0.13%) and dirty socks (.07%).

“Quiet Moments”

As per directions, I sprayed the area my dogs would be occupying ten minutes before lights out, and then we went to bed.

It was the first full night of sleep I’d had in a week. During the day, the dogs resumed their howling and whining, but at night, we all rested comfortably.

As a rule, I’m skeptical of quick fixes and products that claim to distract dogs from anxiety, let alone hormonal urges, but I have no other explanation other than that the product worked even in the face of inconclusive scientific studies. At under $7.00, the spray might be worth trying out if your dog could use “chilling.” If you have used this spray or a similar product, I’d like to hear from you.

I hadn’t been able to find the right time to test “Calming Collars” on my dogs, in large part because my dogs aren’t afraid of thunderstorms, trips to the vet or being groomed.  I didn’t think herb-filled collars alone would pack enough “punch” to deal with the challenges of dogs gripped by hormones, but after Katie went out of season, I tried one of the collars on “Maci.” I wanted to see if it would take the edge off a dog who thought that any minute, she might come back into season and he didn’t want to miss a minute.  The Calming Collars concept is based on aromatherapy, each collar filled with a special blend of dried herbs that smells wonderful. After wearing the collar for an hour, the dog smelled wonderful.   “Maci” did seem to rest a bit better with it on.

Raggedy and “rank” from a week of lust, here Maci is wearing his Calming Collar. Wait, let me help you find it.

Here’s the collar!

Each fabric collar is handmade, filled with a precise amount of dried herbs, and fitted with a plastic buckle to allow for adjustments. The inventor, Deborah Mendez, offers a refund of the purchase price if the patented collar fails to perform for you, but I’m offering another way for you to score a collar for your own anxious dog at home.

The brand new red collar can be yours!

Simply submit your name and contact e-mail address to KnobNots@KnobNots.com for a drawing to be held May 5th. Your contact information will not be shared (in fact, I’m going to shred all the names when the drawing is over and compost my garden with them). The collar will be shipped to the winner the next day.

Simple, right?

“You cannot teach a man anything, you can only help him find it within himself.” – Galileo Galilei

Among the many surprises in store for me when I had children was to discover that each one was born with traits so immutable that the best we could do as parents was to shape the direction in which they expressed those traits. Instead of finding entertaining ways to, say, outwit the FBI’s white collar crimes unit, our adult daughter uses her mind-numbing stubbornness to challenge accepted notions about algae in pursuit of a PhD. Our son’s adolescent distain for authority took an interesting turn and he’s about to finish his first year of law school. You just never know what will resonate with a child and reach far into his or her future; for that reason, our parenting philosophy was to expose our kids to everything that was constructive, positive, affordable – and legal.

My parents must have had the same idea when they presented me with the book seen below. I was six years old at the time, and while I don’t have a lot of memories about being six beyond getting scarlet fever and setting the kitchen on fire with a flaming marshmallow, getting the book was a definite high point.  My parents weren’t especial dog enthusiasts, and while they liked all animals, they had no particular reason to give me a dog book (unless it was to turn me away from pyrotechnics). Still, I savored every page and read the book every day for a very long time.

After many moves and years of storage, I try not to notice the stench of mildew when I open the book, but how I remember the wonderful hours I spent looking at it.

It featured every dog imaginable – at least to a six year old.

I learned that dogs were classified by groups…..

….and that they had jobs!

It’s possible that because of the book, I entered a dog show and won my first ribbons. By then, of course, I was much older. Eight years old, to be precise. My entry was a favorite stuffed animal, a Scottish Terrier named “Ginger Bread.” And though it would be many years before I entered another dog show again, it would be with a dog that had a pulse, and this time, I would stick with the sport.

My very first dog show ribbon. Why had I kept it all these years? Do you believe in prescient knowledge – that I subconsciously knew that one day, I’d need it as a reminder?

My next placements were for classes I’ll describe in the next pictures….

My red “ribbon” seen in the photograph above this one was second prize for the “funniest” dog. If that were an AKC class today, “Katie” would win it hands down.

I was eight years old and exhibiting my stuffed animal when I won a first place blue “ribbon prize for (I kid you not) “most unusual dog.” If they only knew.

Not long ago, I caught wind of a new children’s book that in my estimation was long overdue.

“If I Ran the Dog Show”

“If I Ran the Dog Show” has all the elements that my first dog book had.

That first dog book (the larger book pictured above) taught me a dog’s body parts. So does this one

The similarities between my old book and the new one is downright eerie. Here, as in my old book, Bloodhounds are shown at work.

“If I Ran the Dog Show” is part of the Cat in the Hat’s learning library, and as such, the illustrations are in Dr. Seuss’ style, as is the text:

“I’m the Cat in the Hat

and today we will go

to the Short-Shaggy-Tail-Waggy

Super Dog Show!

I found the book on NAIA’s web site. They wrote:  ”At NAIA we believe that hands-on experience with animals is one of the greatest ways of fostering a child’s sense of responsibility and empathy, and of laying the groundwork for a realistic view of animals and our connection with them. Groups like 4-H have long provided youth with hands-on experience in areas such as agriculture — but when it comes to the world of purebred dogs and dog shows, there has been virtually no concerted effort to nudge forth the next generation. But that doesn’t mean we can’t start now…”

I couldn’t agree more. We may have lost some of the older generation to the Animal Rights movement, or shrillest of the Shelter and Rescue World, but we have a chance, if not a duty, to expose the younger generation to all that is wonderful about purebred dogs. For that reason, I not only bought the book (under $10) to donate to a place where lots of children will see it, I’ve put an NAIA logo below that makes it easy to order the book to donate, give as gifts, or keep for yourself – just click on the logo.

As Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young sang:

Teach your parents well,
Their children’s hell will slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picked, the one you’ll know by.

“Back in the day,” I was the art critic for my college newspaper and wrote under a by-line. Because no one knew the face that went with my name, I was able to enjoy an anonymity that allowed me to study unharassed and slip in and out of art galleries without notice. This was important to me because I sometimes reviewed the work of artists who were also my professors. Risky business, that.

On the occasion that I reviewed a particularly disappointing show, I didn’t pull any punches. The paintings lacked clarity and fell short of the artist’s stated goals, a pet peeve of mine in a visual medium. I concluded my article with a flourish (I thought) by opining that the artist’s craftsmanship was shoddy, and that if he insisted on leaving the edges of his canvases unprimed, he would do well to wash his hands before lifting his paintings. It was an unvarnished review that reflected my opinion, and once I submitted it to my editor, I thought nothing more of it.

The artist, by the way, was the Chairman of the Art Department. 

The next morning, the entire art department was buzzing over the article. Some had agreed with my assessment, others didn’t, but seemingly no one ignored it. Amidst this fuss, I entered the department office to collect a grade and realized that here, too, the staff was talking about the review. All I wanted was to get my grade and leave in a hurry, and when the secretary asked for my name in order to retrieve my grade, I gave it to her before thinking.

A crypt-like silence fell over the office.

I’d “blown my cover” and had instantly made my life more difficult.

Days later, I whined about this to a friend who listened patiently, blinked his eyes, and then said dryly, “What did you think was going to happen after trashing someone you might need?”

The other day, the on-line edition of the UK’s The Telegraph published an article in which The Kennel Club (the British version of the AKC) warned that dogs are being increasingly “marginalized” in British society and treated as a “nuisance” that must be controlled and restricted. The Kennel Club statement went on to lament that dogs are being “ghettoized” as they’re pushed out of neighborhoods and are “no longer accepted as they once were.”

And all I could think after reading the piece was this: “What did the Kennel Club think was going to happen after they responded as they did in the aftermath of the “documentary,” Pedigree Dog Exposed?

For those just tuning in, Pedigree Dogs Exposed was a piece of “shock journalism” that purported to expose the appalling health and welfare of purebred dogs in the United Kingdom. The filmmakers showed videos of selected dogs to underscore their assertion that pedigreed dogs suffered from diseases bred into them by breeders who had little regard for the dog’s soundness or comfort – all to pursue an exaggerated sense of beauty that would win them a ribbon at a dog show.

Four million people watched that highly biased film when it aired on the BBC in 2008, and the public outcry was seismic. Disgust of epic proportions was leveled at purebred dogs in general, their breeders in particular, and the Kennel Club especially. The RSPCA withdrew from Crufts along with various sponsors and trade exhibitors, and the BBC, which had broadcast Crufts for 42 years, withdrew its coverage in 2009 never to renew it again.

Scarcely heard were the voices of the outraged responsible and ethical owners and breeders whose protests over misrepresentation were minimized and attributed to self-interest. Instead of standing by them, the Kennel Club shifted blame to the breed clubs and all but suggested their collusion with inhumane breeding practices. Instead of aggressively responding point by point to the filmmakers’ misleading, if not sweeping generalizations of the dog fancy, the Kennel Club tacitly seemed to agree with them when they chose to review breed standards for every breed, request regulatory powers from the Government that would empower them to take action against breeders who failed to comply with health standards, and by mandating compulsory health checks at Crufts for all Best of Breed winners in fifteen “high profile breeds.”

In light of such a reaction, what was the general public to think but “guilty as charged?”

Some people saw the fingerprints of animal rights activists all over the documentary and the Kennel Club’s response to it. Of that, I have no certain knowledge, but of this I’m pretty sure. The dog fancy is not without flaws, but neither is it as villainous as the documentary painted. Sadly, viewers were never treated to a rebuttal with any teeth.

In over 100 years of selective breeding, most ethical and caring breeders have done the best they could with what they had in the days before the canine genome was mapped. Wouldn’t it have been a more positive tact for the Kennel Club to use The Telegraph article to show how far we’ve come, and that in 2013, breeding and science are merging as advances are made in identifying genetic markers? Corrections don’t happen overnight, but we are heading in a positive direction, and faster than once would have been thought possible.

Instead, the Kennel Club voices its vexation over dogs being marginalized in their county. If the Kennel Club is now distressed by the current climate facing dog ownership, I can’t help but think that they were complicit, if not unwitting accomplices, in bringing it about. Did the club think that by appearing to be sensitive to the documentary’s charges, they would continue to “feel the love” of a country that had always loved its dogs? Had it never occurred to them that by acting as if monsters existed, they were creating a real one, instead?

What did they think was going to happen when they failed to go to bat for the responsible owners and breeders in their country with passion? What did they think was going to happen when the mud that was slung at purebreds would trickle down and eventually stick to all dogs? Was there not one person who realized that while you can’t please all the people all the time, you can never please any of them enough if they have an animal rights agenda?

If dogs are being marginalized, I would want my kennel club to go on the offensive with a media blitz of stories, videos and photographs featuring the dog/human bond. I’d want them to take back my sport and my reputation.

Purebred dog fanciers have the best PR in the world at their side – their dogs, but there is strength in numbers united under a common banner.  Sadly, the Kennel Club lost the battle for its responsible constituents and may well have lost the war. We in this country, however, still have our dukes up and more and more of us are catching on.

What do we think will happen when children meet our friendly dog who’s only too happy to plant a kiss on their nose? What do we think will happen when our dog reminds someone of a terrific dog they knew as a kid?  What do we think will happen if we get engaged, become proactive, “get in the game” and never give up?

We’ll win.

**Update: In a vigorous debate over this issue, my opponent called me a “sock puppet.”  I’m rather fond of sock puppets and proudly display one at the top.

Over the last fifteen years, I’ve watched the dog world turned upsidedown at the hands of animal rights fanatics who successfully redefined the culture of dog ownership. Paving the road to hell with their good intentions, their push for legislation to affect change in what they defined as immoral and irresponsible practices came to negatively impact the responsible owners and breeders who were doing it right. They flexed their political muscle with uninformed politicians who saw the upside of feel good laws, and, well, here we are: The vilification of breeders and their purebred dogs, invasive dog laws which penalize both the irresponsible and responsible, misinformation passing for fact (the overpopulation myth) and an American lexicon that now includes erroneous slogans such as “Adopt, don’t Shop” (or a shelter dog dies).

When it came to misguided laws and poorly worded legislation, I was a good little soldier for years. I did my homework, I wrote letters, I voted. When that didn’t seem to be enough, I attended caucuses and became a state delegate. By participating at a deeper level, I learned that it wasn’t enough to vote for candidates other people chose. The real power was in determining who got on the ballot.

I don’t enjoy politics, I really don’t – but I want to be left alone to pursue happiness and my dogs make me happy. I’ve come to a place where I don’t think it’s enough any more to be a “good little soldier” who takes marching orders from ineffectual generals who don’t have, if you’ll pardon the pun, a dog in the fight. If we as dog fanciers are to affect real change based on what we know to be accurate, logical and fair, we must follow the old adage that if we want something done right, we have to do it, ourselves.

I think it’s time more of us become generals.

It’s time more of us run for political office.

Us. Dog fanciers. Breeders. Judges. Handlers. Trainers. Owners. Purebred dog affectionados. Us.

It may take some time, but inserting a demographic with an agenda into the grassroots of the political process does work. It worked for the 60’s radicals who grew up to become the establishment they once railed against. It worked for green party candidates who endured the sneers of people who first asked, “The what party?” It worked for the Christian Coalition which tilted a presidential election towards politically conservative causes. It worked for the animal rights agenda. And it can work for us.

Some folks have come to the same conclusion. AKC judge and club president, Janice Gardner is a newly-elected member of the New Hampshire state legislature. And in 2010, dog fancier, Yvette Herrell, won her race for New Mexico State Representative.

New Mexico State Representative Yvette Herrell

Representative Herrell recently took time out of her busy schedule to talk with me and that interview follows below. I preface it, however, with a chuckle. I’d never met Rep. Herrell before, but our hour long conversation was punctuated with “dog talk” and if the audio seems heavy handed in the editing, it was to condense the interview to 25 minutes.

Rep.Herrell with her Shar-Pei

Rep.Herrell with her Bullmastiff

Rep.Herrell with her Shar-Pei

Rep.Herrell with her Shar-Pei

Another option for those who want to take back our rights as dog owners is to become a lobbyist. I confess that for a long time, I regarded the profession in much the same way I regarded used car salesman. Talking with a few elected officials, however, has persuaded me that if I look at a lobbyist as someone who factually represents the interests of my sport in an ethical manner, I could learn to love them.  Here’s a quickie guide (if not simplistic) to becoming a lobbyist, but I’d love to hear from someone who’s actually done the job.

Each of us should play to our strengths and at the end of the day, not everyone is cut out for public office, or even lobbying for a cause. There’s still more we “average Joes or Janes” can do. What would have unbelievable twenty years ago is now something that should be a weekly task by every dog fancier: Visit the AKC page devoted solely to tracking dog legislation. The site is updated daily and presents a state-by-state rundown on bills before each state’s legislature, the bill’s title, sponsor, an abstract of the proposed legislation and its status.

As Representative Herrell said, get involved. Do something. Time is not on our side.

I’m not sure if I’m typical of most Americans with this, but I love lists. I rely on a list to keep me on the straight and narrow at Costco, spell out what I’m supposed to get done in a day, remind me of all the things I don’t want to forget before leaving for a dog show (like, say, the dog)  - and keep a mental “naughty and nice” list for my own personal amusement.

I make lots of lists – and lose half of them. I especially like lists with bullets. You know, bullets?

• Clean oven
• Buy wine
• Wash Dogs
• Buy wine
• Return Library Books
• Liquor Store

Lists are the ultimate ice breaker at a party: Quick – name the Seven Dwarfs. List the Eight Wonders of the World. Name the Great Lakes. What are the Seven Deadly Sins? What were the Seven Nations of the Iroquois. Rattle off the Ten Commandments. See? You’re doing it. You’re seeing if you can answer any of these.

For the record, the dwarfs did not have names in the original Snow White story as written by the Brothers Grimm. The story has been adapted so often into books, animation, film, and plays that somewhere along the line, the dwarfs got names, and those names changed according to the release date of the medium (as did the number of dwarfs). In 1912, the dwarfs were named Blick, Flick, Glick, Plick, Quee, Snick and Whick. In 1937, the Disney animation gave them the names by which we know them today: Bashful, Doc,  Dopey, Grumpy, Happy and Sleepy. Later versions, I think, left something to be desired: In 1965, they were Axelrod, Bartholomew, Cornelius, Dexter, Eustace and Ferdinand. It just gets worse. Last year in “Snow White and the Huntsman,” they became Beith, Coll, Duir, Gort, Muir and Nion.

But I digress.

My affection for lists puts me in good company. When asked what book he recommended for writers, Garrison Keillor replied, “Roget’s Thesaurus, the fourth edition, which has those cool lists of words, like twenty five types of anchors, a hundred varieties of cheese, forty kinds of saws, and on and on….the Fort Knox of Words.” While I don’t have that particular book, my own list bible is the Trivia Lovers’ Lists of Everything – 50,000 big and little things organized by type and kind.  Boxing punches, knife types, all the messages that appear in a Magic ’8′ Ball, purple color variations, forms of marriage, types of radiation. These are things I must know.

Even if some people don’t keep lists, however, pretty much everyone loves the kind of list that defines excellence: The Final Four, The Triple Crown, the Top Ten of anything. When something I love – dog shows – involves a list, I’m in heaven.  With regards to “the triple crown,” it’s not just for horse racing. There is some debate within the dog fancy as to what our Triple Crown is. Certainly Westminster is one. Crufts would be the other. But is the third “crown” the World Dog Show, the National Dog Show, or the AKC/Eukanuba National Championship?

In my view, it would have to the AKC/Eukanuba National Championship by virtue of the competition. Not only are great dogs from this country exhibited there, but great dogs from over 45 countries are flown in. I’ve been honored by my dog having received invitations to Eukanuba, but I’ve always elected to write from the show because of the access I have to see so many cool things.  As a result of this access, I’ve come to feel that Eukanuba is the dog fancy’s front line of attack against animal rights zealots by showcasing purebred dogs in a meaningful way to the public. Education is most effective when it happens “live.” Pet this Xoloitzcuintli, watch dogs dive into water and love it, see the partnership between handler and dog at the conformation show, look at how wicked fast the agility dogs are, touch this dog’s hair, feel the bond between the companion dog and its owner.

Pet, watch, see, look, touch, feel – these are action words the public experiences for themselves. You can’t teach this in books, and you can’t convince an uninformed public about the value of purebred dogs in society unless they see it for themselves. Perhaps my only complaint about Eukanuba has been that there has been so much to see that I sometimes have felt that I missed something.

This is about to change,  and if you’re considering attending Eukanuba this year, you’ll want know that a full day of events has been added to the Friday before the show. It’s being called the “Final Five” which appeals to my love of lists.  What five events will usher in the end of the competitive dog show year this December? Three all-breed dog shows, a day of independent specialties, special attractions, and the AKC/Eukanuba National Championship.

It’s the day of special attractions held on the Friday before Eukanuba that has my attention. I’ve already written about the importance of the Eukanuba Breeder’s Stakes Finals and why, in my opinion, this event should be standing-room-only.  We need to support breeders at a time they’re coming under fire from animal rights radicals, the growing intolerance of shelter-and-rescue zealots, and a gullible, if not misinformed public. In previous years, however, the Breeder’s Stakes has suffered from scheduling conflicts and too many fellow exhibitors, fanciers and spectators have been unable to watch.  With its new time slot on Friday, I, for one, expect to see a healthy crowd at the ring in a show of support, if not out of the shared interest that fanciers have in common: This whole “dog show thing,” is about one thing: Assessing dogs in order to determine soundness and type worthy enough to create the next generation of that breed.

Another “must attend” event moved to Friday is the World Challenge pre-judging. In addition to seeing some breeds not yet accepted by the AKC, spectators will be treated to seeing various breeds as they are shown under FCI rules. The competition is fierce, the atmosphere is international and the judging is fascinating – but pre-judging in the past has usually been missed by many exhibitors because of scheduling conflicts with their own breed judging. Watching this competition will be the closest some of us ever get to the World Dog Show and you owe it to yourself as a fancier to see this.

The World Challenge: you have to see it at least once

The AKC/Eukanuba National Championship will be held December 10-15, 2013 at the Orange County Convention Center in Orlando, Florida. The broad schedule looks like this:

• Dec. 10-12, 2013: Space Coast Kennel Club of Palm Bay, Brevard Kennel Club, Central Florida Kennel Club and Orlando Dog Training Club shows, which include all-breed conformation, obedience and Junior Showmanship competitions;
• Dec. 13, 2013: A full day of specialties and special attractions, including Eukanuba World Challenge pre-judging, the Eukanuba Breeder’s Stakes Finals and the AKC Owner-Handler Series end-of-year competition. Clubs interested in hosting specialties should contact Michael Canalizo at mlc@akc.org or 212-696-8213;
• Dec. 14-15, 2013: The AKC/Eukanuba National Championship, joined by the AKC Agility Invitational and the AKC Obedience Classic (and their respective Juniors competitions). Other activities include Celebrate Dogs!, AKC Meet the Breeds® and My Dog Can Do That!, Best Bred-By-Exhibitor competition, and Eukanuba World Challenge.

Suddenly, I’m getting really excited for December. Note to self: Make a list of things to take.