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Updated: July 18, 2025
No weather-prophet was needed to tell these hillcountry folk that they were in for a thunderstorm; and for what one kennel-man described as "a reg'lar ol' he-one," at that. Now, under right conditions, an open-air dogshow is a thing of beauty and of joy. At such places as Tuxedo and one or two others it is a sight to be remembered.
I don't set up to be an expert judge of collies, so maybe I am all wrong about him. I'm going to get professional opinion, though. Next week they are going to have the spring dogshow at Hampton. It's a little hole-in-a-corner show, of course. But Symonds is to be the all-around judge, except for the toy breeds. And Symonds knows collies, from the ground up.
For a dogshow has a wel-nigh universal appeal to humanity at large; even as the love for dogs is one of the primal and firm-rooted human emotions. Not only the actual exhibitor and their countless friends flock to such shows; but the public at large is drawn thither as to no other function of the kind. Horse-racing, it is true, brings out a crowd many times larger than does a dogshow.
Remove the betting element, and you turn your racetrack into a huge and untrodden lot. There is practically no betting connected with any dogshow. People go there to see the dogs and to watch their judging, and for nothing else. As a rule, the show is not even a social event. Nevertheless, the average dogshow is thronged with spectators.
To many others a dogshow is a horror. Which windy digression brings us back by prosy degrees to Bruce and to the Hampton dogshow. The collies were the first breed to be judged. And the puppy class, as usual, was the first to be called to the ring. There were but three collie pups, all males. One was a rangy tri-color of eleven months, with a fair head and a bad coat.
Lad's chief objection to them was that he hated to be chirped to and pawed and stared upon by an army of strangers. Such a one-day event was the outdoor Charity Dogshow at the Beauville Country Club, forty miles to northeast of the Place; an easy two-hour drive.
Hence the series of special baths and brushings. Hence, too, Laddie's daily-increasing gloom. At eight o'clock on the morning of the show, the Mistress and the Master, with Lad stretched forlornly on the rear seat of the car, set forth up the Valley on the forty-mile run to Beauville. Lad blinked down at the suitcase in morose disapproval. He hated that bag. It spelt "dogshow" to him.
Now line up there in a row, you baby snatchers! Never mind that funny business, there, you man with the red whiskers. You'll drop in your tracks if you make another move! You are the cowboy sheriff of the county, I understand, but you ought to be training puppies for a dogshow. That's about your size." In a moment every member of the sheriff's posse, including Seth, was unarmed.
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