The Public Eye
The Westminster Dog Show, which took place a couple of weeks ago, is always good television viewing, if for no other reason than some contestants remind me of people I see in the grocery store.
It’s mostly the hair, as these days there are any number of people whose fashion inspiration seems to be drawn from the Dr. Foster and Smith catalogue, “The Trusted Name in Pet Supplies.”
I was in the store just last weekend and I will swear that one person had his or her hair done at PetCo. I say, ”his or her” not to avoid being politically incorrect, but because it’s sometimes difficult to tell without checking the individual’s confirmation, which is never a good idea.
But there he or she was lingering and lingering in front of the meat counter, where I wanted to be. I can say with authority that it doesn’t matter whether something is human or canine, when you say, “Squirrel!” in the grocery, things have a way of clearing out.
All this is just a prelude to writing about the one aspect of televised dog shows that I really like: the way the announcer describes a particular breed as it’s being walked around the ring:
“The Chinese Crested,” he intones with noticeable gravity, “is a mostly hairless breed, except for the feathery crest on its head …” not unlike what you might see during Bike Week (I made that up).
His delivery is so smooth and elegant that I’ll spend at least a day wandering around the house, to the annoyance of all, applying this same descriptive technique to my dog, Crazy Eddie.
For those who might not know, Crazy Eddie is a smallish 2-year-old canine, whose genetic composition is reminiscent of that now-retired chicken finger ad, “Parts is parts.”
“The Ed-Hound,” I will begin, “hails from ancient junkyards and was developed through patient and selective breeding into one of the canine world’s premier squeaky ball chasers.
“Recognized far and wide for his regurgitative abilities, the Ed-Hound is also known for making a variety of funny noises when guests are present.
“The Ed-Hound makes an excellent traveling companion, although car seat covers are advised, and is equally at home in the city or in the gigantic hole he dug in the garden.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Ed-Hound number 234.”
Needless to say, after I have repeated this for the third or fourth time, others in the house will interrupt with the occasional “SHUT UP!” Except for Crazy Eddie himself, who continues to watch curiously, although lately I’m beginning to see the wheels turning in his little dog brain, perhaps thinking, “Should I say, ‘Squirrel?’”
