The Dog Show

 

Saturday mornings are reserved for the “men” in the family to do our running around.   When I say “men” I mean all three of us – Me, Sean, and Tiger the dog.   Yes, we take that silly dog with us every Saturday morning, and if we stop at McDonalds it is insisted that I buy Tiger his own McMuffin.  He gobbles it down in less than 30 seconds and spends the rest of the breakfast time giving us the “sad eyes” and drooling in the back seat.    If we don’t stop at the golden arches he whines as we go past.  No kidding. 

We got Tiger from the pound about a year and a half ago.   He was just a skinny little dog and as we left the lady told us “He’s a Plott Hound”.   Okay, cool,  we’ve got a Plott Hound – whatever that is.    When we got home we got on the internet and looked him up and sure enough, we had a Plott Hound.  We were shocked to find out we had a dog that was bred specifically to hunt bear, but now is used mostly as a coon hunting dog.   My wife and I were a little worried that we had allowed our son to choose a  hunting dog who was described in one article as “The NInja of the Dog World” and “The Toughest Dog Alive”.

Of course Sean was in love with him before we even got home so we were stuck with him.  He seemed friendly enough and eventually we found out he is a great dog.    He’s always ready to play, but if nobody is in a playful mood, he’s more than happy to doze off at his owner’s feet.   He was easily housebroken and quickly learned the rules.  Kids can hug him, lay on him, push him, pull him - it doesn’t matter – he’s wonderful with kids.   He’s a good watch dog and leery of strangers, but warms up quickly to anybody we invite in the house. 

Saturday we went to our usual stops including the bank where the teller sends a biscuit through the window for Tiger and a sucker for me.   Every week I get my envelope at the drive thru and say  ”Hey!  She gave me a sucker”.  Sean starts yelling and grabbing for it and the lady in the window laughs at us.  Sometimes she tells me “That’s not for you!!”

As we were done with our chores I remembered there was the UKC dog show in Richmond and we agreed the three of us ought to check it out.  It’s not what you think – it’s the 49th annual Autumn Oaks coonhound show and hunt considered to be the largest in the world and attracting 17,800 people.   I thought all three of us would enjoy looking at Redbone puppies and Blue Tick champions and maybe get to see a demonstration or something.

One little, unimportant bit of information I should add about Tiger.  He hates,  ABSOLUTELY HATES, other dogs.    

Sooo – we go down the country road to the fairground and see tents and campers and dogs chained to the fence or in pens.  Immediately Tiger’s hackles are raised and he starts screaming.   He screamed all the way  down the road,  through the main gate, and all through the fairground as we drove very slowly looking for a place to park.  He didn’t stop his howling until we parked and got out of the car.  Then he was very happy just sniffing and walking around on his leash.  

We saw license plates from Virginia to Nebraska,  Texas to Tennessee, and all kinds of hunting dogs.  The people were very friendly, Tiger behaved himself and Sean had a great time petting all the puppies.   I had no idea this was such a big business.  Some of these puppies had $800 price tags on them.

We walked past all the tables and booths along with quite a few other people walking their dogs.   We ran into Jordyn, a friend of Sean’s and she was all over Tiger hugging him, petting him, talking to him.   It was pretty crowded and every once in awhile we’d have to stop and try to get back in the flow of the crowd.    As we stood there with Jordyn up came this old boy from Tennessee with his Red Tick hound.  I assumed he was from Tennessee because he had a T-shirt with a hound dog imposed on a rebel flag under the word “Tennessee”.   Tiger and the Tennessee hound wagged their tails, sniffed noses and rear ends, and started making pals.   Sean reached over to pet the Red Tick hound, and then it happened -

Tiger attacked.   

In a flash he had bowled this dog over on his side and was on top of him growling and biting.   It was awful.  He’s over 60 pounds and when he’s excited It’s a struggle to pull him back with the leash.    All I could think of was “my unregisterd, low-life Plott Hound is chewing up this $800 dog”    The Tennessee boy yanked his dog away by the leash and yelled at me “mai! yodahswald’ which I interpeted to mean “Man!!  Your dog is wild!!”.

Well, it was time for us to go.  We were outsiders and were no longer welcome in the “real” coonhound world.  Under steely glares and evil eyes we hung our heads in shame and went to find the car.    All except Tiger, of course.   He was the happiest hound in the place.  He had kicked some dog butt and held his tail very tall and proud, and actually appeared to strut. 

As soon as we got in the car (trying to get away unnoticed) Tiger starts screaming again.  He screamed all through the fairgrounds, through the main gate, and all the way down the country road until every last dog was out of sight.  

When we first got to the fairgrounds and saw the prices on these dogs I told Sean “I hope somebody offers us $500 for Tiger.  We can sell him and get you another dog.   A BETTER dog”.   I received a punch in the arm and a chewing out.  “NO way!  You can’t sell him.  He’s part of our family and we love him”.  He’s right of course, but after Tiger’s rednecking at the dog show it would have been very tempting.