Dog Show Syndrome

I have this friend, and he has a disease, I am sad to say. No therapy, no surgery, and no medication have given rise to a cure. There seems nothing that will put his symptoms at bay. He loves his dog, his cause is, and his motives pure.

Though it tears at his heart, and his nerves have been strained. He mumbles a bit, stutters at times, and he cries a lot. It is Dog Show Syndrome, I fear, which has set fire to his brain. Showing dogs for so long has left his stomach in knots.

This affliction he suffers, is it physical or mental? Is it passion, obsession, or addictive by nature? His love of the game seems really quite spiritual. He’s never going to quit, that is for certain, and he will suffer well into the future.

Many miles he has driven, all the fast food he has eaten. Showing dogs, breeding champions, bringing dreams to fruition. The big red, white and blue rosette serves as a beacon. Entry fees and expenses, about as much as four years tuition.

Half of a lifetime of dog shows, there have been quite a few. In expo centers, grand ballrooms, county fairgrounds are the best. Across deserts, over mountains, and some were hard to get to. Satin ribbons and silver, yes, but it is the love of dogs that fills his chest.

He often speaks a language all of his own. Talk of knuckling over, missing teeth, and faulty gait. He speaks of things called cow hocks, weak stifles, and heavy bone. He asks, what are you currently using for bait?

Perhaps you know other people who suffer too. They work their craft for hours on cement floors or manicured lawns. With leashes in hand, Best-In-Show is the goal they pursue. They have bathed and dried, brushed and combed since the break of dawn.

I have this friend; he is so very ill. I have to ask, is it contagious? I have not a fever, nor have I a chill. You see, I love this young dog; he has won his first point. Outrageous!