Sherlock and Shasta chatting today;

Sherlock: Oh my gosh! Shasta! OMG! Shasta! SHASTA! It’s awful. It’s horrid. It’s unthinkable.

Shasta: Slow down there my favorite Fruit Cake. What is wrong with you?

Sherlock: I missed the Westminster Dog Show!!!

Shasta: It’s okay. Mom can load it up for you on the telly to watch. Chill.

Sherlock: No. You don’t understand. I was suppose to go to the show. I was suppose to be in the dog show. I was suppose to win the dog show.

Shasta: That is ridiculous. We aren’t show dogs. We are pet dogs. Our job is to be pet!

Sherlock: You may be a just a pet dog. But that is because you were a puppy mill rescue. I am a show dog. Let me go get my papers. My papers prove I am a show dog. My dad was a Canadian champ.

Shasta: What was his name Smarty Pants?



Sherlock: I don’t know. I haven’t been to Canada. Something like Schacamoapica. It is written in Canadian and I read American. But it is on my papers. MOM! Tell Shasta… Oh well. My grandpa was a Westminster group champion. I know his name! It is Mikimoto on the Fifth. Or Sixth? Or Fourth?

MOM! Show Shasta my papers!

Shasta: I have seen your papers. A million times. {Sigh} You can line a birdcage with them as far as Westminster goes. First off: there is nothing wrong with me. I am 100% spoo. It is true I was rescued from an awful life. But the people at the poodle rescue found me my Mom and now I sleep in a king size bed, have more than my share of toys and chews, and am the boss of you.

Sherlock: I let you win…sometimes… it is my job to carry the family torch and win the whole thing.

Shasta: DNA in your case stands for Don’t Notice Anything. For starters, didn’t you notice the poodles at Westminster don’t look anything like either of us? Let’s start with your topknot. A show dog has a long luxurious topknot. Like this:

Your topknot flops. Like this:

Sherlock: I can grow a topknot like you have never seen. Just watch me.

Shasta: Then there is they way show dogs carry themselves. See the great posture on this dog? She looks like royalty.

Now look at your silly self. You look decapitated.

Sherlock: That bow is cheating. I’m a boy. I can’t wear a bow. But I have perfect poodle posture.

I’m down right regal.

Shasta: Do you know to be a show dog, you have to get Mom to get your hair cut like this good looking guy?

You can’t show up looking like this:

Sherlock: Again! No fair. I had just had a “spa” mud treatment. But ohhhh. Look at that cut. He has ball butt. I want a ball butt. Mine will be the roundest fluffiest balls a butt has ever seen. I know Mom will let me have them. She let me have foot balls. (Get it? Footballs – I crack myself up.)

Shasta: Speaking of balls… As soon as you stop laughing at yourself, I will give you the last and final reason you can’t win Westminster. Only dogs that can make puppies are allowed. The original purpose of dog shows was to evaluate breeding stock. And; everyone having the same equipment makes judging more fair. You had your boy puppy-making balls removed. I think Mom has them in a jar in the garage. 😉 So there. This fine rescue dog has just as much chance of winning Westminster as you do.

Sherlock: Oh my gosh! Mom! OMG! Mom! MOM!!! What you did is awful. It’s horrid. It’s unthinkable……. Quick. Go grab the jar of my parts and call the vet. Come on! Quickly!!! We have to right a horrible wrong. Next year I will be there…….

~

{Shasta: Thank you to Branna, Carmel, and Calder for helping me show Sherlock what a sharp looking poodle is suppose to look like. And no matter if we are black, apricot, red, parti, silver, brown, or white – toy, mini, or standard – show dogs or pet dogs – rescues or well planned litters: we poodles are always canine superstars!}