Show time!

So, Monty is now a show dog! Well, I'll need to be a bit more specific. It was hardly Crufts but a little bit of fun and all in aid of charity. It took place in two of the local villages: Warborough and Shillingford. Both beautiful Oxfordshire villages complete with cricket greens, flower-festooned pubs and the kind of charm that warms the heart (and the kind of price tags on the houses that makes me realise rather depressingly that I would have to work five life times to have the money to live there. Even then, at a stretch I might get a wonky shed at the back of a compost heap).

Anyway, the villages are the epitome of the English village and the perfect location for a wholesome Sunday dog show. Even despite the late July drizzle, the kind that doesn’t so much get you wet but coats your hair and skin in tiny pin head sized droplets, too small to actually dampen your skin or spirit.

There were a number of light-hearted categories ranging from ‘waggiest tail’, to ‘best trick’ and ‘fancy dress’. We decided to enter Monty into ‘most handsome dog’. Well why not?

So it was with a carefree and ‘it’s not the winning but the taking part that counts’ attitude that we entered the competition. But not for long. As soon as the dozens of other (have to say adorable) dogs arrived, I won’t deny the sudden sting of competition did smart. So much so, I had to check myself. Parenthood may not be too far around the corner and if this was how I felt about a charity dog show, I was suddenly awash with the frightening premonition of my hot housing my future child in Maths classes to push him or her to genius status. I’ve seen pushy parents like that in documentaries. So, as neurotic as it seems, this calmed me down and purged the brief spark of competition.

After cooing at the ‘cutest puppy’ round and nearly missing our round, the Handsome Dog category was announced. I strutted into the ring with an alert beagle trotting alongside, tail straight, head aloft, glossy-eyed and well groomed. He sat pertly beside me without a hint of interest in any of the other dogs. His attention was on my voice commands and them only.

And now for the real account. I stumbled into the ring under and over the lead that Monty was trying to use as a skipping rope with me whilst he continued his ongoing argument with a Labrador on the outside of the ring. When his attention was finally diverted from it, he strained to stick his nose directly in the crotch area of another dog owner before peeing in the most visible spot to the audience he could. With a look of satisfaction he finally sat down..for a nanosecond before giving himself a good old, and lengthy scratch. And a cleaning downstairs for good measure. I think he managed to tick all the boxes of what I hoped he wouldn’t do with the exception of trying to procreate. But there was still time.

The judge was already making her way around the dogs; chatting amiably and inspecting the four-legged contestants. As she approached a nearby spaniel, I heard her remark that she did love spaniels having always had them herself. On seeing Monty, she said, with a detectable note of negativity in her voice, ‘Oh, a beagle’. She then had the audacity to follow this with, ‘he’s chunky isn’t he?’ Chunky! I wanted to cover his ears. I suppose he is a little stocky but chunky!? Hrrrmph!

At this point I realised that there was not going to be a victory rosette for the little chunky monster and as anticipated, a host of spaniels won the show. But it wasn’t over yet. The judges called for an extra round at the end. A good-humoured extra round for any dog who hadn’t yet won an award.

I had no shame: I walked straight back into the ring for what was effectively the ‘losers’ round’! A little more prancing around and we were awarded 2nd.

So it’s official, ladies and gentleman, Monty is the official 2nd Best Loser!

A proud day.