Free Putting on the Dog by Cynthia Baxter Page B

afar without being able to see what was going on inside, was making me restless. True, Funds for Our Furry Friends was what’s called a “fun match.” Official dog shows provide the chance to compete for points that can lead to the title of Champion—which, aside from bolstering both human and canine egos, yields cash prizes and increases a dog’s value for breeding purposes. But that doesn’t mean a fun match isn’t as entertaining to watch, not to mention a lot more relaxing.
    Both matches and shows are all about conformation—meaning how well each dog conforms to the standards for that particular breed. The American Kennel Club determines the breed standard, which includes all kinds of physical characteristics like the shape of the ears, the size of the feet, and even the texture of the dog’s coat or how much his tail curves. While I always appreciate seeing a really stellar example of any breed, when you come right down to it, I just like being around all those happy, healthy dogs.
    My first stop was the “Information” table, where I picked up a show catalog. I scanned the Judging Schedule and saw I was in luck. The wire fox terriers were on for ten-thirty in Ring Number Two of the Red Tent, and I was just in time.
    I stepped inside the huge tent festooned with crimson flags. More than half the space had been divided into two show rings. Dogs and their hopeful owners, sporting bright blue armbands printed with a number, were packed into the rest of it, awaiting their turn in the ring. I was amazed at all the paraphernalia the owners had dragged along. Even though the temperature had already topped 90and the air was heavy with humidity, they’d lugged giant metal crates, portable grooming tables, folding chairs, ice chests, and huge tote bags stuffed with brushes, shampoos, favorite toys, water bowls, towels, and dog treats across East Brompton Green. It made carrying my medical practice around in a van look easy.
    Yet while the humans looked a little droopy, the dogs couldn’t have been perkier.
    “Hey, fella!” I greeted a spunky fox terrier who stood on a grooming table. Although his eyes were bright and his posture was alert, he was exhibiting remarkable patience. For a dog that had been bred to hunt foxes, chasing them down relentlessly and then digging them out of their holes with paws powerful enough to burrow through an Oriental carpet, standing still for more than twenty seconds was an unfathomable hardship.
    His owner, however, didn’t seem the least bit appreciative of his cooperativeness. The heavyset woman, decked out in a yellow appliquéd blouse and a bright red skirt printed with tiny fox terriers, sniffed and sighed in frustration as she pulled a wire brush through his coarse fur.
    “Freddie, you’re being such a naughty boy today,” she hissed. “You know how important this is to Mommy! I need you to do this for me. Do you think you can calm down long enough to win Mommy a blue ribbon?”
    I made a mental note to give Max, a fellow terrier with the same frisky temperament, a special dog treat the instant I saw him. An extra hug, too.
    “What a beautiful dog,” I commented.
    She looked at me with surprise. “You have no idea what the competition is like out there,” she replied tartly. “And Freddie gets so tense at these things!”
    The owner next to her appeared to be having a much better time—maybe because his dog’s breed wasn’t on the schedule until that afternoon. The lean, middle-aged man was engaged in an energetic game of tug-of-war with his sleek, white miniature bull terrier. The dog’s muscular, squarely built physique made him look as if he were taking the whole thing very seriously. And he was certainly growling ferociously enough. But his mischievous expression, especially the glint in his eyes, gave away the fact that he was enjoying the moment as much as his master.
    As I strolled by, he let go of the rubber toy and looked over at me expectantly, wagging his