Sitting here, perched precariously upon my mountain of fox terrier tomes, I watch the puppy fur falling softly like snow from a slow-motion avalanche around me... There is a silly grin on my face. To imagine that I am the victim of an indoor blizzard! And Gidget -- convinced she is a victim too -- has escaped in a blaze of energy, a hell-bent skiier "hot-dogging" down the slope to assure herself a chance at freedom.

We are quite the twosome, Gidget and I, as we survey each other from across the room: She, suspiciously from her den of safety beneath the table -- tail wagging ever-so-softly; and myself, the amused human with sore fingers -- wondering if our "dogged" (excuse the pun!) quest for entry in the show world is really what the two of us want...

This wondering, of course, is not new to me. You could say I've become "a wee bit touched in the head", I fear... This potential "showing psychosis" I'm developing -- it seems to descend at the oddest times. Perhaps you have come across the symptoms?

I've noticed it often strikes at the most innocent moments... Walking along the lake shore, for example. The wind in my hair. The sun like jewels upon the water. Gidget and I, playing an energetic game of "chase the stick"... Carefree. Full of nothing but "joie de vivre"! When suddenly from no-where the second-sight descends upon me like a cloud -- and I am blessed (or is it cursed?) with x-ray eyes that peer to the very atomic structure of my dog. It's then that the "voices" start: "Hmmm, her top-line looks nice today... Perhaps a little more angle would be nice though? Look at that movement! Is she tracking straight or did she just fall into a hole?"

And there are other moments, even worse... Times when the "voices" speak in my head -- and I answer. Have you heard of this phenomena? For me, it often strikes during the intricate ritual of grooming. I'm never aware of it. My roommate brings it to my attention...

There I am, absorbed in the geometrical exercise of carving Gidget's leg furnishings into perfect pillars. I have the algabraeic expression finally worked out on paper. I am excited. My heart pounds. I think I understand at last the sacred architecture of the well-groomed fox terrier. My hands quiver on the stripping knives. The moment of truth arrives... I reach for Gidgets front leg and tentatively grasp a few geometrically undesirable hairs. I pull them. It is intense. I reach again. I pull. Madly, I circle around her on the grooming table -- here a hair, there a hair.

I am Rodin. She is "The Thinker".

"THIS TIME!", the voices say in my head "YOU ARE DOING IT RIGHT!!"

"YES!", I answer -- as my roommate leans suspiciously around the corner to see who I am talking to... I am in a frenzy of creative genius, I�do not notice my roommate.

Then, at last, it is time to stop. To admire and analyze my handiwork. To see, if finally after all these failed attempts -- I have created of my dog, a masterpiece.

I hear the voices in my head, "AAAACCCCKKK!"

"SHUT UP!", I screech. "She CAN'T look like a teepee! It is not POSSIBLE for a human to make a fox terrier look like a TEEPEE!"

My voices answer, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE??!!"

"I DON'T KNOW!", I wail.

And then I notice my roommate. Very small. Pressed up with her back against the wall with a hint of fear in her eyes. She looks at me suspiciously. She says she has been watching me for awhile now. That my eyes are glittering strangely. "Oh really?", I mutter. I try to smooth my hair back down into some small semblance of sanity. "I was just grooming, it's nothing."

"Of course.", she answers. But later, I notice her looking for psychiatrists in the Yellow Pages...

Yes, you could say that I have noticed subtle symptoms of a change in myself -- since I have begun to hope of showing someday. It worries me, perhaps. Which is why I am telling you this. But, then again... There is something about the idea of showing that I just can't get out of my system. The pride of knowing that somewhere, beneath the "teepee" I have erroneously created -- there lives a magnificient animal. An animal of beauty. An animal of grace and energy. And that I -�I have been entrusted with owning this wonderful creature! The idea of showing -- it is a contagious disease, is it not?

I am not sure if you agree with me. But, I would be more than happy to give you some advice if you ever experience the symptoms yourself. You understand don't you? I am sure you do. The "voices" tell me you do. Incidentally, I know the most WONDERFUL doctor...