New Threads for a Newbie

New Threads for a Newbie

by Christopher Glaeser
Published in Golden Retriever News November-December 1998

“Eeewww!” That was Guido's monosyllabic critique as he rifled my wardrobe in search of something for me to wear during my upcoming debut in the breed ring. Being a self-proclaimed expert on everything from fresh pasta to lovely ladies and fine-tailored clothes, Guido is always eager to share his advice. In reality, Guido is clueless when it comes to women, but he does know rigatoni, fettuccini, and all the other oni's and ini's on a first name basis, and he also happens to own the finest collection of suits on the dog circuit. After a fruitless search in my closet, Guido emerged holding his nose in gesture, and whisked me off to his favorite clothiers for a complete redo.

“Face it,” Guido said as we walked into the store, “I've seen you dance, or what ever you call that thing you do. When moving in the ring, those long legs of yours are gonna look like a wounded flamingo. Why, even your knees bend backwards. If we dress you up,” he went on, “at least you'll look good when standing next to your dog.” I started to remind Guido that my shoes didn't fit on that night of the “infamous dance”, but our conversation was interrupted by an attractive sales lady offering assistance.

“May I help you find something?” she asked. That's when we saw it. Right there, in plain view, pinned to her sweater, was a large gold pendant of a golden retriever. Of course Guido was immediately smitten and began to dream of dinner dates, moonlit walks, and china patterns. “Hi, my name is Guido,” he said, using the romantic intonation he had practiced so many times before. She avoided eye contact and sensing defeat, Guido quickly shifted to plan B adding, “And this is my friend Christopher. He's a columnist for the Golden Retriever News.” I wanted to kill Guido. Every time he included me in one of his little courtship rituals, disaster was around the corner. Unfortunately, I was dazzled by Guido's introduction as a “columnist”, so I just stood there to indulge in a moment of inflated self-importance.

“What an incredible coincidence”, she exclaimed. “I have a golden retriever puppy that I show and I need some expert advice. When I bait my dog, his name is Pooky,” she continued with enthusiasm, “I can't get his ears up.” Then she asked, “Can you give me some training tips on how to create an alert expression?”

“Well, um,” I stammered, “see, here's the funny thing. It's quite hysterical and you're gonna die laughing. You see, the column is devoted to people who are new to conformation, and um, well, the editor had this wild and crazy idea that it would be neat if someone who was actually new to conformation wrote the column. The articles chronicle the trials and tribulations of learning the ropes in the breed ring. Fact is, I don't know a thing about showing a dog. Why, just last week someone asked me what was behind my dog, and I turned around to look. Isn't that a hoot?”

There was a long pause. Finally, she broke the silence and quipped, “I get it, you two are just a couple of idiots!” and she stormed off. “She's very observant,” I told Guido, “you've got to give her that.”

Guido's marriage plans having been dashed, a tailor walked over and handed me his business card. “My name is Sergio,” he smiled, “and I'm your clothing specialist.” Sergio gave me one quick look and snapped, “Forty-two long!” That's an amazing talent, I thought to myself. If Sergio were a breed judge, he could excuse over-sized dogs without a wicket. Minutes later, I was trying on their finest suit. I glanced at the tag on a sleeve and noticed there were too many digits in the price. “You look like a million dollars,” Guido beamed, proud of his accomplishment. “That's because I've spent a million dollars!” I shouted. “With this Italian wool suit, Egyptian cotton shirt, hand-painted silk tie, and judging from the price it was painted by Leanardo himself, a crate, x-pen, floor mats, pop-up, grooming table and arm, leashes, collars, combs, count them three pairs of scissors apparently made of platinum, shampoo, conditioner, blow dryer, booster tub, tackle boxes, clips and bungies, not to mention I'm still making installment payments on my Mason Pearson brush, I figure I've already spent a million dollars!”

But Guido wasn't listening. His attention was elsewhere, staring at yet another young lady in the store. I slapped him on the back of the head and screamed, “Guido! Did you hear anything I just said?” “Sure I did,” he responded, massaging the new knot on his head, “I heard every word.” “Look, I know what will cheer you up,” he said gleefully. “Let's stop by Felini's for lunch and grab a couple plates of lasagna, my treat. And then afterwards, I'll take you shopping for your new motor home.”