The Waterbury Democrat., 1934-02-19
In
New York
By PAUL HARRISON

New York.-Some notes on the
ffty-seventh annual exhibition of
the Westminster Kennel Club-the
biggest dog show in the world:
Mingled smells of dogs and disin-
fectants. Crowds. Sawdust. Bark
ing, yapping, yipping, believing
intermipable, frenZied, and con-
ducive to headaches. Bright lights
heating down on the ten judging
rings in Madison Square Garden.
Owners and professional handlers
anxiously tratting their charges III
circles, kneeling to pose them by
yanking them up by their tails,
tossing out bits of biscuits to try
to stimulate a spark of anima-
ton. The dogs, with one accord,
look bored.
Tense exhibitors awaiting their
turn in the ring, combing and
smoothing and talking in what liz
intended to be q reassuring tone.
The matter fact women in
| twceds and fiat-heeled shoes,
smoking cigarets. The fluttery
older women, wearing smocks and
whispering baby-talk into silky
ears. The men looking calm and
sucking at their pipes; dog-men,
true to tradition, do seem to prefer
pipes. The judges, acting as
though the fate OF civilization
rests on their shrewdness, trying
to decide whether Champion Rich
ard of Cheshire Hills is a quarter
of an inch low at the shoulder.
The small boy, looking ON with
deeper understanding, who
could have told them that Cham
pion Richard was the better
dog anyway, Judged by human
standards.
DOGGY Sights
The crescendo of sound as you
enter the tremendous basement,
where The 2461 dogs are benched.
The Beddington terriers, which
look Ike sheep. The bedlam
raised by all the terriers in deaf
ening. chorus. The wire-hair that
asks nothing more on this earth
than to get out of his cage and
kill his next-door neighbor. The
Airedales, looking smaller than
ever this year. The reflection that
maybe they're trying to breed them
down to apartment-size pets. The
little girl who wants to pat oil the
dogs, especially the red-eyed, fero-
cious looking ones. The bulldogs,
as swe 't-tempered as they are
grotesque. The lady, who thinks
It's cruel to exhibit dogs for three
days at a show. The exhibitor,
caressing a nervous Irish terrier to
keep him quiet, who assures her
that 1t isn't.
| The amazing names, such as
"Limehouse Happy Hooligan.' me
man who explains that each reg
istered dog has to have different
name, so they can't all be called
Rex or Rover. The old lady who
goes along calling each of the
collies "Laddie." The loud-voiced.
authoritative man who calls the
| German shepherds "police dogs"
The st Demands, looking infinitely
! bored and paying not the slight
est attention to friendly advances.
The Irish wolfhound that bellies
his sinister appearance by lolop-
ing you on the face with a huge
tongue.
Putting On the Dog
| Inc yaWnlnS Sour-muS That
looks like composite of all the
gargoyles you ever saw. The tiny
Chihuahuas in their glass cases
and on their satin, hand-embroid-
cred coverlets, looking embryonic.
The Yorkshires with their hair
done up in curl papers. The
women who exhibit the toy dogs
sitting around in rockers and
cuddling their favorites in blan-
kets. The magnificent fury of the
Pekes, the hysteria of the Poms,
the startling resemblance between
human speech and the yapping of
the Bostons. The sheepdog, with
SO much hair over his eyes that
you can't guess which end to pat.
The old gentleman in a frock
coat who looks on wistfully, as
though he'd like to kneel down
and scratch the ears of every
pooch in the show. The elegant
Sealyham that's trying with opti-
mistic fervor to dig a hole in the
board floor OF his cage. The SPAN
Tel, chained under for-sale sign,
which looks at you with love apd
longing. The conviction that you'd
better get out OF there before you