We took the nasty little rat dog in today to the vet's. He hadn't lost some of his milk teeth; when he snarled – not infrequent – he looked like a shark, what's with the extra teeth. He had three extracted, and it will no doubt improve his smile if not his disposition.
And, in the livingroom, herself is watching the Westminster Dog Show. I'd make some unkind observations about the Westminster. First, the little narratives about each breed must have been written by a press agent. It's a Lake Wobegon thing – they're all above average, intelligent, fiercely loyal, courageous, &c, &c. It always tickles me to see the dogs acting like dogs in the course of showing, wanting to stop and sniff, the game dogs jumping salty with each other. Makes one hope there's some genuine canine left in the poor, overbred beasts, and that they'd be happy to roll in dead hardhead catfish on the bayfront. The other observation I'd make is that most of the professional dog people are unattractive – many of the women dowdy or sour looking, the men prissy. I'm sorry. Like to hope that association with dogs would somehow improve our breed. Late news flash: The Scottie just won best in show. Wife is disappointed; she was cheering for the whippet. One of my all-time favorite stories was covering a border collie competition at Manor maybe 25 years ago. Border collies are simply amazing in their intelligence and focus.