It's Showtime

 “Who’s that spooky looking guy?”
- Grace Hamilton

“That’s Joey Zaza’s bulldog.”
- Vincent Mancini

- Godfather III

        Detroit – The 104^th Detroit Kennel Club Dog Show featured diversity. There were furry faces and hairless ones. Many were stocky, fewer were lean. Some were in heat, while others were past their prime. The dogs were interesting, too.

            One of my favorites was an English Bulldog named Rosie, clad in a Union Jack collar. The Golden Retrievers, with their earnest eyes, for some reason made me proud to be an American. And because the German Shepherds were there, I felt safe from terrorists.

            Suffice it to say that all representatives from the 154 breeds were striking creatures, but Brian and I went for the Siberian Huskies. Vito is no show dog, but we thought that maybe we could pick up a hint or two on how to manage our puppy.

            At the bench area, we found a breeder from Up North, who had nearly 30 Huskies. The man handed us an ominous sheet of paper entitled “So … You Want A Siberian Husky?”  It said, as follows:

            “If you work all day … don’t buy a Siberian.

            “If you value neatness … don’t buy a Siberian.

            “If you want aggressive guard dog instincts … don’t buy a Siberian.

            “If you take pride in your landscaping efforts … don’t buy a Siberian.”

            “If you are one of those people who thinks it is cruel to kennel a dog or keep him confined to his own backyard … don’t buy a Siberian.”

            We confessed that we had gotten a Siberian a few weeks earlier, before we had read the rules. I like a tidy house and Brian prefers a coiffed lawn, so right there we had already broken two. He backpedaled and asked where we got our dog. From Karnovanda Kennel, we said.

            “Ohhh, you got one of Judy Russell’s dogs,” he said. “You got a good dog then. I hope you know they have the desire to run. That very first dash that your puppy makes across the road could be his last run, anywhere,” he continued. “But he’s a good one.”

            We thought if we met another breeder, we might feel better about ourselves, and about our ability to keep our dog from becoming a Flatout in the middle of the road. We said hello to a small woman who trimmed the fur between her Husky’s toes as the dog stood patiently -- in a noose. One slip of the scissors, or heaven forbid a slide off the table, and that Husky was dead meat. A while later, we saw that same woman as she sat in a folding chair, with the full-sized dog spilling over the sides of her lap. Brian also saw her carry the dog around, with its head on her shoulder, like a baby.

            The Huskies were supposed to be featured in the Show Ring at 2:15 p.m. Brian and I had some time to kill, so we watched other breeds strut their stuff. Soon, I wasn’t even looking at the dogs. The handlers were a breed all their own. Food rewards were a big thing with the dogs, and the handlers kept plenty of bits of meat, cheese, and kibble in all kinds of places. One lady kept the dog treats inside her own cheeks. If her dog sat on command, she reached in her stuffed mouth and dug for a hunk of brown, saliva-softened kibble and popped it in the dog’s mouth. Another woman kept the treats in her jacket pocket. Every time her dog did something well, she pulled out two treats: one went in the dog’s mouth, and the other went in her own.

            It was time for the Siberian Huskies to take the Show Ring. Brown, gray, and blond Huskies stood in a straight line ready to run around the ring with their handlers. Brian and I rooted for one in particular, a black-and-white dog that looked like Vito.

            And they were off! They were so light on their feet that their paws barely skimmed the ground. The judge singled out our favorite, the Vito look-alike. He was asked to take another run around the ring. We clapped as he came our way.  As he turned to cut straight across the ring, the dog put on the brakes. He squatted and arched his back. The crowd laughed nervously. And then he did it. He had a bowel movement right in the center of the ring, after which I noticed his handler did not give him a treat.

            The Husky that pooped actually won a blue ribbon, so apparently they don’t count that kind of thing against you.