The Dog Contest

Dennis and I were asked recently to judge a dog contest at Cheekwood Gardens here in Nashville. We said yes immediately– Our kids are dog-crazy, we love Cheekwood, and the idea of spending quality time outside together on a beautiful spring day seemed like a perfect Sunday afternoon.

The day of the contest dawned damp and chilly, but we Ferrier dog judges were undaunted. A little after noon, we headed for Cheekwood, all chattering excitedly about what kinds of dogs we might see. When we arrived, it was raining a little, but small tents had been set up and dogs of all shapes and sizes were roaming everywhere. We took our seats at a table beneath one of the tents and started judging.

Our job was to give each dog a score between 1 and 10, marking on the card if a particular dog was one of our absolute favorites. At the end of the afternoon, the scores would be tallied and ten dogs would be chosen for a magazine photo shoot. The dog with the best photo would be the magazine’s cover dog.

A long line soon formed at our table and one by one, dogs were brought up for our inspection. We asked the owners all the sorts of questions we imagined a dog judge would want to know.

“What’s your dog’s name?”

“How did you two meet?”

“What breed is your dog?”

“And how old is little Bitey?”

Of course, any dog owner that cares enough to enter his dog in a contest has got to be one proud dog owner, right? Consequently, the back stories on Duke and Ruffian and Otis and Precious Princess went on FOR. EV. ER. We didn’t really mind; the dogs were all pretty cute and the kids were having fun.

But then it started raining harder. And the wind picked up.

We fought to keep the tablecloth on our judging table from whipping away as we wrote down score after score on soggy scraps of paper. My children moved from their positions at the table’s edges into our laps. I cursed under my breath as I felt the rain hitting my back each time the wind blew. I had brought raincoats for the kids, but just an umbrella for Dennis and me, and it wasn’t doing me any good.

Yet despite the rapidly deteriorating conditions, the line of contestants and their owners kept on growing.

A few more minutes passed and I could feel a puddle forming in the seat of my plastic folding chair. I scooted up to the very edge of my seat, imagining the pointing and whispering when we left (which, judging by the line of dogs, wouldn’t be any time soon). “Did you see that judge? The one who wet her pants? Whoa.”

A rational person might leave the event at this point, particularly if he or she was not a judge or vendor. But I know now that dog owners aren’t rational. They had paid their money, dammit, and neither cold nor wind nor rain nor wet fur was going to keep their Biscuit from being judged for the photo shoot. And so, wet, shivering dog after wet, shivering dog was brought before us. Writing down scores was nearly impossible at this point. The forms were completely sodden and I couldn’t feel my fingers.

“Could you hurry it up a little?” one of the organizers said quietly to us. “Severe weather is coming. They’re calling for 60 mph winds at 1:00.”

Oh. Hell.

“I’m going to see if there’s a blanket in the car,” my husband whispered beside me, after noticing that my lips were turning blue.

“O-o-o-k-k-k-k-k-a-a-y-y-y,” I replied, teeth chattering uncontrollably. As Dennis got up, yet another french bulldog was placed on the table before us. We shielded our faces too late as the dog enthusiastically shook the rain from her fur.

“This is our precious Noodles!” the owner said. “Noodles came from Kentucky, where her breeder said she was the best of–”

“Okaythat’sgreatgotitNEXT!” I said, with an approximation of a smile. The wind blew harder as Noodles was hastily scooped up off the table. A Pomeranian replaced her.

“What’s this dog’s name?” I asked.

“Frou Frou,” the owner said. “Frou Frou loves to play with other dogs and she loves her blue blanket and she ha–”

“Got it. Thankyousomuch. NEXT,” I said. There was still no end to the line of dogs. I wanted to cry. Dennis returned to the tent. “No blanket,” he said, “but you should see the way you look from the back. It’s HILARIOUS.” I looked daggers at him.

“NEXT,” I croaked, five seconds after a Chihuahua in a denim skirt was placed on the table. The wind howled. The rain poured down. And still, the dogs kept coming.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we got to the last dog in line. I hastily scratched down a score and stood up. The wind was whipping madly around us and I suddenly realized it was very possible that one of the tents was going to come out of the ground and hit someone in the head. “Let’s go!” I yelped, grabbing each child by the hand. “Meet you at the car!” I called back to Dennis as we raced across the lawn. We staggered against the wind, fighting our way to the parking lot. “Auntie Em! Uncle Henry!” I cried, but no one could hear me over the noise of the gale. Somehow, I got the kids inside the car, where we huddled in our seats, shivering. I started the car and turned the heat on high. Dennis joined us a moment later.

“That was crazy!” he said. “I was running for the parking lot, and a woman said ‘I’d love to get a picture with you,’ right as the wind turned my umbrella turned inside out.”

“What?!” I said, watching the driving rain outside the car as the wind blew it sideways. “What did you say?”

“I said ‘Hey, thanks!’ and I smiled and I kept on running!” he said.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said. “I’m worried one of these big trees is going to come down.”

As we left the parking lot, we noticed a small line of dogs and their owners at the registration tent. Yes, even with driving rain and 60 mph winds, people were still showing up for the contest.

I told you, dog owners just aren’t rational. I know this because… I’m one of them.

We got home and peeled off our sopping wet clothes. My teeth were still chattering and I was chilled to the bone. I thought for a moment, wondering what I could possibly put on that would warm me up. And then it came to me.

Yes. It was time to pull out my Forever Lazy. I put it on and instantly felt warmer, and I wore it for the rest of the day.

And that is the story of The Dog Contest.