I originally wrote this short story as a submission for a column to appear in a pet enthusiast magazine, but this magazine does not print stories relating to dog shows (I honestly didn’t even think about that), so I’m posting it here. Obviously, I’m crazy about my dogs, and we all just watched the Westminster Dog Show together (Zip, in particular loves watching dogs on tv).
So here’s the story!
Chaos at the Dog Show
By Rascal, the Jack Russell Terrier
Last night, I dreamt I was at the Dog Show. I was backstage amid the hubbub, the handlers and the hair spray. While the Poodle got his hair puffed, and the Doberman barked strict orders, I trotted between the legs of the Great Dane and hopped over the Pekingese. I’d never seen so many dogs in one place, and had definitely never seen so many hairstyles.
The Parson Russell Terrier sniffed his way over to me.
“Hello, Cousin,” I said to him. “What’s your name?”
“They call me Spot,” he replied. “I enjoy frolicking in the woods and am a great companion. I’m energetic and was bred to hunt foxes. I enjoy success but can be stubborn at times.”
“Okay,” I shrugged. That’s a little TMI for our first meeting, I thought. “Want to take a spin around the room and see who’s who?”
Spot, the Parson, stood on his hind legs and turned in a circle. “Spin,” he said.
“Very funny, show-off,” I laughed. “Let’s go for a quick walk.”
“WALK?” he yipped. A few dogs near us snapped to attention. “WALK?!” He started bouncing as though on a trampoline.
I realized my mistake once the word slipped across my flat tongue. My canine cousin’s enthusiasm was infectious, though, and I couldn’t help myself. Soon I was hopping up and down next to him. We were like two pogo sticks with tails.
“WALK! WALK!” we chanted, and soon other dogs joined in. The handlers frantically grabbed for their leashes and tried calm the pups with liver treats.
“WALK! WALK! WALK!” our chorus continued. We leapt and jiggled through the area. The big dogs stumbled and tumbled over the smaller ones, while those in the Toy category found refuge near larger, protective breeds. I noticed the Pug seeking cover under the Mastiff, and the Chihuahua climbing onto the back of the Rottweiler.
“WALK! WALK!” was our mantra. Spot led the charge through the doors and into the arena, where a surprised scattering of audience members watched our parade. The dog handlers chased us. Round and round we went, pooches and humans, dashing in circles on the green carpet of the arena.
Finally, our excitement waned and dog after dog flopped down. I found a good space to lie down near Spot and we tucked our heads next to each other. Spot yawned. My eyes drooped with sleep.
“That was a great walk,” Spot said dreamily.
“Great walk,” I agreed. My eyes closed and the sounds of doggy snores slowly faded away.
I woke up in my bed, warm and soft. My human was leaning over me with a smile on his face.
“Wow, that must have been some dream, Rascal!” he said. “You were barking in your sleep and your legs were going, as if you were on a walk.”
I jumped up from my bed, tail wagging and ears perked. “WALK?!” I yipped.