Although showing dogs means we lose more frequently than we win, sometimes we become winners through osmosis or observation. Maybe if we're lucky, or if we try a little harder, we'll each experience a heartwarming story or two of our own.

 

Parents admit our most nerve-wracking times occur when our children are in the limelight. We're proud, happy, thrilled, excited, but also tense and apprehensive.

 

Nancy Taylor, a former Sheltie exhibitor, relates just such an experience at a show with a large entry. "My daughter showed a female that she had chosen and raised as her own from birth. I was deathly afraid that she would make a handling mistake and incur someone's wrath. When Jill started around the ring, the audience began to clap. It spread to the entire building and to every exhibitor in the ring with her. The judge had her make an extra pass as the applause grew to thunder, and I stood with tears in my eyes watching this 7-year-old grow six inches taller from the confidence and warmth imparted by the people I competed against every day." Jill's mother doesn't even remember how the dog placed, just the sportsmanship of the competition.

 

When Nancy showed a Sheltie male needing that last major -- especially evasive in the popular breeds -- she took the purple ribbon, but missed that coveted major by one dog. There was a chance of Best of Winners, of course, if the female entry held. It was on the nose. Another exhibitor, whose puppy was experiencing stage fright and exhibiting her nerves with flying ears, gamely showed the female anyway to hold the major. And the handler who won Winners Bitch, knowing about the near miss, sloughed off during Best of Breed, making Nancy's dog look terrific!

 

Nancy says, "I was never influential, prominent, monied or well-known. These are stories of human kindness extended by the "show people" in one of the most competitive breeds. There's a lot of kindness. We need to remember that -- the ones who cause the problems are actually few and far between. We just don't need to feed them."

 

Recently, Janina Laurin related the following story which occurred at the American Belgian Tervuren Club National. A popular breeder judge, Merrelyn Clark, had been in the fight of her life -- for her life -- against bone cancer. Through sheer will, she determined to attend to fulfill her assignment. Janina writes in Dog News, "When (the) showchair ... announced her name, the entire ringside erupted into a spontaneous standing ovation. It was with sheer fortitude Merrelyn rose from her wheelchair to acknowledge the greeting." Several people assisted her prior to and during the show, among them Debby Boehm and Norm Freeman, who offered a private plane to fly the judge to her National dream.

 

In yet another instance, a young man showed his aging female at a large specialty show. She was nearly past her prime, but she still exhibited gorgeous movement. This beloved dog needed one more major to finish. The crowd nearly took the roof off as she floated by, and the judge gave her the nod. It was her young handler's 17th birthday.

 

A friend of mine sold a Beardie (one of my grandpuppies) that needed to be rescued later on, due to family problems. How we all can relate to that! It's a real downer for us, the dog and all involved. When my friend and her mother drove six hours through the rain to pick the dog up, they found Sally wouldn't even leave her crate. The Beardie was neglected, nervous and depressed. Despite enticement, they finally had to tip the crate up to coax her out of her shell.

 

The breeder's mother adopted the dog, worked with her, loved her and showed her for the first time at our National. I stood beside the ring a year later, streaming tears when Dea and Sally went around the ring as the sole entry in novice, knowing how hard they had worked to get to that point.

 

Dea continued showing Sally, building her confidence, and racking up point by point. Finally, Sally was down to needing one major, and all Dea's friends were afraid one or the other would not be able to show much longer. We built a major at a show we would not usually have attended. We all stood there, cheering, clapping and crying when Dea finished Sally! She never bred her, but they both enjoyed a supreme moment of glory and togetherness.

And we got to share it. May you all be blessed with such warm, fuzzy times!

 

Chris Walkowicz is an award-winning dog writer. Among her many credits is the Cycle® Fido Woman of the Year Award from the Dog Fanciers Club. You can reach her by e-mail at walkoway@revealed.net ... and visit her web site at http://home.revealed.net/walkoway

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