October.
     Oh my gosh, she’s won! I gallop joyously across the sodden field to receive my ribbon. For the second day in a row, Lucy (Ch. Redwing Comic Relief, N.A.) has won Best of Breed during the prestigious Montgomery County weekend. First at Devon , and now at the Montgomery show. I am sooo excited. I arrive home to be greeted at the airport by my family. My normally unimpressed husband is bragging to strangers about the great win. It is a golden moment. Suddenly, I have lots of new best friends. The dog show photographers send proofs, magazines solicit advertising. Dog food coupons come in the mail. I get a free grooming apron. I could grow to like this. I begin grooming in a frenzy. If I don’t take off the coat she has, it will be blown (dead) by February. It takes her several months to grow a coat, so I must plan ahead if she is to look her best.
November.
     I scrutinize the Chronicle website (www.caninechronicle.com) daily for the updated point standings. They tabulate the number of dogs beaten in Best of Breed competition and in Group competition to come up with the top dogs in the country. According to my calculations, Lucy should be in the top five Australian terriers. Why is this important? Well, this year the top five in each breed will receive an invitation to the big Westminster Kennel Club show in February. Getting an invitation will mean that I can enter with the certainty of being accepted. In the past, entries to the show were filled in under a half hour, with many entries not being accepted. So I prowl the web page daily, looking at the old standings from September, waiting for the October lists. I can stand it no longer. I call MBF, the superintendent for the Big Show. They are the ones in charge of mailing out the invitations and accepting the entries. When will the standings be posted, I plead. I am told that it will be available by the end of the week. I check daily. She’s there! She’s there! She’s number five, and the number one bitch! I am so proud! There for all the world to see, my girl. My goofy, ball crazy, noisy, wonderful girl! I call my friends. I call my relatives. I tell strangers. I am beyond joy! The Westminster Kennel Club site (www.westminsterkennelclub.org) has the results posted now as well. I visit there daily, needing to see her name there. I greet Wayne (our mail carrier) at the mailbox. I’ve told him, too. He will keep an eye out for it, he says. I wait. My conditioning program is in full swing. I am walking/jogging about a mile and a half, several days a week. All dogs wog, Ms. Lucy included. I think it has really made a difference in her movement and her stamina. My heel spur is screaming. I have asked for rollerblades for my birthday so I can keep up with the dogs without ruining myself. Finally the invitation comes. I hold it in my hand, promising to frame it. It is almost an anticlimax. I have just a few days to fill it out, so do it immediately. I send it Express Mail. Two days later I call; it is there, I am in. December I am still grooming, taking hair out. I can finally see new coat coming in. This will be the coat she wears to the Big One. I buy the rollerblades, along with knee and wrist guards and a helmet. I totter dogless in the driveway. I fall carefully on the wrist guards. No damage done. Whew. I practice daily with the rollerblades as weather will allow. I make the end of the block without tragedy. Next day I conquer the hill, up and down. I am not taking Lucy yet, for fear that in an awkward moment I’ll run over her. I go shopping for clothes, the magical Westminster outfit. I find a suit that costs more than my first car payment. I buy it, and a blouse worth a weeks groceries. I may not win, but I’ll be the best dressed loser there. My husband shops too, purchasing a new suit for the occasion. He’s excited about going. Finally I take Lucy rollerblading. We make the short trip up and down the hill without mishap. It is fun! We go farther the next day, and the next. Soon we are scooting around our old wog path, me gliding along without the heel spur shrieking, Lucy in a purposeful working trot. Ideal. The letter confirming my entry comes from MBF. I worried they might lose my entry or my check. The bank, in a fit of pique, might fail to cash the check. They might decide I am too young, too old, too from Colorado. Now, at last, it is for sure. The food I am feeding is suddenly not good enough. I have been thinking about switching for a while, and now I have an excuse. Lucy is on the conditioning trail, and Hotsey is pregnant. So I go to Bark Avenue in Louisville, a cute little store that sells all kinds of fun dog stuff along with the special food. I return home with two bags of Innova. The dogs are very interested. Riley guards the empty bag, groweling at the girls when they come too close. It is Christmas, a wonderful Christmas. I get a blouse to go with the Westminster outfit from Paige, and pearls from my husband. A special gift comes in the mail - it is the purse from Pennsylvania that I fell in love with at Montgomery. Santa has never been kinder to me. I am undeserving and small. Suddenly Hotsey is pregnant, very, very pregnant. Lucy’s Big Event is overshadowed by Hotsey’s growing girth. She has a month to go before her due date. Concerned about her size, I take her to the vet for an ultrasound. I am told that she has seven, and maybe eight pups. Holy mackerel! Her walks are shortened, her food increased and divided into two feedings. My thoughts are divided between New York! New York! and the nursery. January I am counting the weeks. Lucy and Riley are still exercising. I feel newly firm. Hotsey continues to swell. Riley visits the vet. A new-found lump on his lip concerns me. So in he goes to have it, and another larger cyst, removed. He comes home forlorn and miserable. He must be carried outside to go to the bathroom. He cries pathetically, dramatically calling attention to his misery. It is a very long weekend. Finally the puppies are born, a week early. But instead of seven, tiny, weak, premie babies she has five strapping little weight lifters. They are normal birth weight, wriggly and strong! I am so relieved. She is a wonderful mother, brisk and efficient. Riley is recovering slowly. Life revolves around the babies. Lucy’s magnificence is forgotten amidst the round the clock vigil. Weighing, changing and checking take precedence. February Suddenly the trip is upon me. The puppies’ eyes are opening, the danger period is passing. Lucy, whose grooming has been neglected in the excitement, looks wonderful. The weeks of planning have paid off, and she is at the peak of condition. I start planning what to pack. It is the day before the day before we leave. I am Captain Kirk on the bridge, saying “Prepare for warp speed”. The next week will fly by, and yet for the puppy asleep on my lap, life is moving slowly. A subject for a physicist, perhaps, the relativity of time passing. Friday, Feb. 11 The flight is uneventful. We arrive on time, then wait for the rest of the Colorado group. Finally we are here! We shuttle en masse to the hotel, drop off our stuff, walk dogs and head for Cabaret. We brave the subway and discover that it’s fast, easy and cheap. We don’t get mugged. Cabaret is funny and raunchy. In between song lyrics I flash on my experience so far. The shuttle driver shrieking in accented English at her dispatcher, all the while zipping through the two-lane tunnel. And the mountains of garbage! I have a new appreciation for the garbage strike. Piles of the stuff everywhere, stray bits littering street and sidewalk. At dog level, it is a cornucopia of tasty tidbits, mashed only slightly under foot, or treaded by car. Chuck nicknames the sidewalk in front of our hotel “Meatball Alley”. Saturday, Feb. 12 We find the local dog park. Large, feral-looking dogs cavort off lead. We are nervous, but my Colorado Aussie, used to grass and space, stubbornly refuses to use the “dog exercise area” on the second floor. So we get our exercise too, walking the 7 blocks each way to the park. There are very few fat New Yorkers here. Not like a visit to the Midwest, where food is a social occasion, these people walk everywhere. We join the throngs, and head off to sightsee. We do the Statue of Liberty, then back to the hotel to clean up. Angie has wrangled us tickets to a Broadway show starring Lauren Bacall, with a friend of Angie’s in the cast. It is a fun evening, and we are invited backstage. To our surprise, Ms. Bacall passes through, and we chat with her about the dog show. Monday, Feb. 14 Finally it is The Day. We trundle our stuff the three blocks to the Garden through drizzling rain. We’ve been warned about the crowded conditi1ons, but are still unprepared for the crush of people. Imagine McNichols arena during a sold out Nuggets game, then add 2500 dogs, their handlers and stuff. It takes us ½ hour to push through to our benching area. The bench is the size of my crate. No room to stash stuff, no room to sit. People squeeze past in front. I make my way back to the grooming area to get my dog ready, Harlan faithfully lugging grooming stuff. It is crowded there, too, only less so. We wait ringside for judging to begin. The arena has been divided into 8 rings. People watch 3 deep. Suddenly it is just another dog show, and my butterflies disappear. At last we show. The judge pulls Lucy to the front of the line, then Ransom, then Tyler. At the last moment, she has a change of heart, and puts the blue/tan male in front. Lucy is awarded Best of Opposite Sex. I smile and offer congratulations. Harlan, Steve and Chuck take the dogs to the hotel after benching and return to watch the groups. The rings are cleared away, the people are in the stands to watch. I can see the dogs in the first group getting ready to enter. Suddenly I am painfully disappointed. A lump rises in my throat as they come streaming into the arena. Tuesday we have time for one last sightseeing foray. Harlan wants to visit the World Trade Center, so we head there on the subway. We are New Yorkers now, finding our way around underground confidently. The World Trade Center is amazing. The view from the top is exhilarating, dwarfing everything below. People and cars are insignificant There is light and space, in contrast to the canyons below. I can see for miles, and can almost touch the clouds. We return to the Garden that night for Best in Show. The arena seems smaller somehow, perhaps because I, too, have been there. The dogs are magnificent, and a thrill to watch. Tomorrow we will head home, back to our lives. But I vow to come again, to ride the elevator once more, so once again I can see the view from the top.

Sue Holsinger