“I'll tell you how the sun rose, A Ribbon at a time.” — Emily Dickinson

“Mine! Mine! It's all mine!” — Daffy Duck

Did you ever have one of those days where you were planning to do something new and different, and you didn't exactly know what to expect, but you knew it was going to be a fun moment in your life, a special day to remember because you had been preparing for that day for months, and your mind raced at full tilt exploring all possible outcomes of the day, and then you got so wrapped up in the retelling of the story that you wrote the longest run-on sentence in GRNews history, but your excitement just kept you going on and on until finally your editor screamed, “Christopher!!! This sentence is much too long; put a period on it!”

Well, that's the kind of day it was.

Levi had been training at the Schepper Puppy Program for several weeks, and his conformation debut had arrived. It was early morning at Sunshine Kennels. Debbie Berry was brewing coffee, Debbie's husband Jim was feeding the dogs, and her friend Sherry Peterson was reading the paper at the breakfast table. As for me, well I was physically present, but my mind was a million miles away, daydreaming about Levi's prospects to “bring home the gold.”

At first, my thoughts focused on Levi's recent growth spurt. OK, I admitted to myself, so the growth spurt made him a tad high in the rear and a bit gangly and uncoordinated, but it wasn't like he was missing a leg or something. Then I remembered that episode on the animal channel. You know, the one where the newborn gazelle plops to the ground and staggers around wearing a sheet of afterbirth, and five minutes later he's running across the African plain faster than a rumor at a dog show. I figured, hey, it's three hours till show time, practically an eternity on the antelope calendar. If a newborn gazelle can outrun hungry cheetahs in five minutes, surely a six-month puppy can find his legs in three hours.

Next, my thoughts turned to placement. Sherry was finishing the paper, so I leaned forward and whispered, “Do you suppose Levi will take his class today?” Apparently still engrossed in the morning's headline, Sherry asked, “Would you care for some orange juice?” “Yes, please,” I answered, “I'll have a small glass.”

Gosh, I speculated, if Levi takes his class, that would give him a shot at winners dog. Debbie joined us at the table with a fresh pot of coffee and several coffee mugs. As she handed me a mug, I reached out and inquired, “What are the odds that a 6 to 9 puppy will take winners dog today?” Debbie's thoughts must have been elsewhere too, because she simply smiled and asked, “Would you like cream or sugar with your coffee?” “No thank you,” I answered, “this is perfect.”

I sipped my coffee and drifted back to my own little dream world. I wondered if a six-month puppy had ever taken breed, or better yet, group or perhaps even Best in Show. Wow, that would be incredible. Just imagine, Best in Show, and at my very first dog show. The hair on my arms raised up from the goose bumps.

Jim came over with a large tray of pastries and sat at the remaining empty chair. “Jim,” I asked with an inquisitive tone, “when a dog wins Best in Show, does the owner give any kind of speech or something?” Feeding the dogs must have stoked Jim's appetite; he just eased into his chair and offered, “Try one of these pecan rolls. I picked them up at the bakery down the road. They make the best sticky buns and rolls, you know.” I snatched a couple pecan rolls and made short work of the first, and then a second.

During the car ride to the show, I sat quietly, making mental notes for my Best in Show speech. My first draft began, “I'd like to thank all the little people.” Nah, much too stuffy. Then I remembered the scene in Bull Durham where the young pitcher practices his lines, “Baseball is a simple game. You throw the ball; you hit the ball; you catch the ball.” Yeah, that sounded unrehearsed and down to earth. All I had to do was change a few words here and there so it was appropriate for my Best in Show speech.

And then, there I was, standing at ringside, watching Levi with his handler Randy. All the planning, all the training, all the hopes and dreams, they all came down to this. I drifted back to dreamland, and envisioned a news reporter shoving a microphone in my face, and me mumbling the words, “Conformation is a simple game. You throw the ball; you hit the ball; you catch the ball.” Hmm, it definitely needed more work.

Once the dogs entered the ring, the judging began at a quick pace. I read somewhere that each dog gets two minutes with the judge. Perhaps it was the excitement, but Levi's two minutes seemed more like fifty seconds, fifty-five seconds, tops. Anyway, it was over almost before it started, and Levi had a third-place ribbon. YES!!! His first ribbon! How exciting! Just think, if Levi picked up a third-place ribbon today, imagine what he will do tomorrow.

© 1998 Christopher Glaeser. All Rights Reserved.