Clean Bill

Bessie Anne had her follow-up visit at the vet's yesterday and I'm happy to say she stayed on her feet, albeit reluctantly, and her leg is apparently healing well.  I would say that Bessie is a medium-sized dog, but she must have felt like a moose in the waiting room.  It was apparently Dinky-Dog Day; there were four Chihuahuas, one pug named Gretchen, and a bulldog named Dozer (he didn't fit in with the dinkies, either).  As is the case with the short-muzzle dogs, the sound of Gretchen and Dozer snorting, snuffling, and panting filled the room.  All these purebreds...and Bessie Anne.  My girl got some sideways glances.  It didn't help that, although her body hair is trimmed short, I left her face and head alone so she looks a bit like a moth-eaten lion.  I leave her face be so that she will still recognize herself when she looks in the mirror.  Bessie Anne got all her immunizations updated, we're legal with the County, and she got a pedicure.  I can trim goat hooves as needed, but cannot trim her toenails for the life of me.

Bess's sit-down strike last week brought back memories of a prior dog, Gildas, a purebred Pembroke Welsh Corgi.  Gillie was a clown who came to me when she was two months old.  As she grew, I thought she was beautiful.  We entered her in a puppy show in Pleasanton, what we thought would be her start on the show circuit.  Arriving at the show grounds, surrounded by Corgis, we realized that Gillie's coat had not grown in to Corgi standards...the others had thick, fluffy coats and Gillie's was...well, less than that.  She and I had been practicing daily, walking on the lead, taking a "stack" (that stance that is required to show off the dog's best features); she knew just what to do.  I did say that dogs are sensitive about their appearance.  Our event was the last in the day and Gillie had plenty of opportunity to look over the opposition.  When it was time for the puppies to show in the ring, I was given my numbered armband and we got in line.  When there were just two more dogs in front of us, Gillie, giving a human cry, "Aahhh!," threw herself on her back.  I envisioned having to drag this inert dog around the ring by the leash.  Setting her upright on her feet, in a low voice I kept telling her, "Just get through this and I'll never humiliate you like this again.  Please, please, please stay up."  The still photos of the event do not show my mouth working the entire time we were in the ring.  The judge was an important personage brought from England to judge the show.  She looked me in the eye as I put Gildas, this comparatively ratty-looking dog, on the table for inspection.  I told her, "Just do your thing and let us get out of here."  Our participation in dog shows for the rest of her life consisted of watching Westminster and Eukanuba on TV.

At least when Bessie sees herself, she won't be embarrassed, and I'll never enter her in a show.