The dark side of your local dog show

Over at the judging for Waggiest Tail, things were getting acrimonious.

‘That bloody woman,’ my new acquaintance muttered. We were sitting behind the rope barrier in the front row and had formed a bond over a serious injustice in Prettiest Bitch. ‘I’m pretty sure she threw this category three, four years back. I happen to know – for a fact – that she made her husband stay overnight in a Travelodge. Dog’s got awful separation anxiety. Husband comes to the park, sitting round the corner. Once the Waggiest Tail starts up, she texts him, and he appears in the dog’s eyeline. Dog starts wagging fit to bust. First prize. Disgrace.’

‘Surely not,’ I said. ‘You’d be surprised what people are capable of,’ he said.

The easy winner was a gent with white hair and beard, an uncanny pair for his West Highland Terrier

All around the country at this time of year, in parks and fêtes, councils and parishes organise dog shows. They are often under the impression that it’s a lovely way to bring people together in good humour, letting the whole dog-owning and dog-fancying community come together in a spirit of fun. You might win a rosette and a bag of treats, but it’s the taking part that counts. What could go wrong?

Beneath the forced smiles and applause for the winner in your dog’s chosen category, feelings run very high, sometimes well concealed, sometimes not. Complaints are everywhere. About the criteria apparently used by the judges: ‘And that bloody councillor just gave every rosette to a dog who was with a small girl, even bloody ugly ones.’ About perceived attempts to game the category: ‘That dog went to that Japanese groomer in Covent Garden yesterday, he told me.’ The usual camaraderie between dog people starts to fray, and will have to be made up again on the Monday morning walk.