As winter had started early, we drove through freezing fog to reach the showground. Flynn, as usual that morning, was in one of his crazy moods. From the minute he saw his show bag the night before, he had been as high as a kite. When we arrived at this particular venue, the rings were fenced off with miniature white wooden fences, there being gaps every os often, so that people could get in and out of the ring.
He seemed to settle down quite quickly, but I should have known from previous experience, that it was just the calm before the storm. Unusually for Flynn, he was not trying to interfere with everyone else whilst we waited our turn and I was lost in thoughts of how well he was behaving, how he was beginning to settle down at last and how well I had done to finally manage to get through to him. Suddenly, without any warning, he went beserk, desperately tryint to get out of the ring. Unbeknown to me, someone had arrived just outside the ring, with a bitch that was in season. Flynn tried his hardest to leave the ring and reach this bitch, with me frantically hanging on to the end of his lead and trying hard to stop myself being dragged forcibly out of the ring. For once, I actually managed to stay on two feet, though I’m not quite sure how. He suddenly settled down again and all was well, until we moved around the ring, to the next gap in the fencing, where he decided to mark his territory, by weeing…….all over my foot! The first I knew of it, was when I felt a warm, wet trickle running down the inside of my suede boots! Needless to say, I was not amused, though everyone else found it hilarious and were at great pains to assure me that it was extremely lucky.
When our turn came, Flynn was so excited that he ran round the ring with his tail in the air, looking extremely pleased with himself. He was not placed on this occasion. So much for his weeing into my boots being lucky! When we got back to our bench, the dog next door had arrived. As the dog was in fact a bitch, this caused even more antics, with Fynn desperately trying to climb over the top and round the side of the benching partition, even though he was on a very short chain and couldn’t possibly manage it. It didn’t stop him giving it a damn good try though, in the process, managing to dismantle the bench!! As I was doing my best to re-erect the bench that he had just dismantled, stop him falling off and cover my embarrassment, all at the same time, a voice, belonging to someone I could not see, piped up from the other side of the benching, announcing, “No doubt that’s a Twoacres dog causing all that rucus”! If I were to say, that when I looked up to find one of the Doyen’s of the breed, staring straight at me, I felt as if I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me, it would be a gross understatement. This episode just helped to convince me that Flynn sees dog shows as nothing more, than his own private harem and playschool, all rolled into one.
© 2008 Michelle Webster