"You have the best dog in that ring. Just let her do what she does best, Jack. She knows her job."
If the boss's words from hours previously had been meant to comfort the young handler, they were not doing a very good job of it. Though Jacqueline kept internally repeating them to herself, she found that while standing at the head of a line of five dog and handler pairs that her heart
still insisted upon beating high in her throat, and the palms of her hands
still insisted on sweating near-profusely. Perhaps the only thing that kept Jacqueline Monahan from completely succumbing to nerves was the pale dog sitting at her side. Peaches, ever the professional, was cool as a cucumber while waiting for the announcer to call her into the ring; neither the dull murmuring of the crowd around the ring nor the slight trembling of the fine chain around her neck did anything to unnerve Peaches.
"..highly encourage you to cheer on your favorite."
Behind the pair, a collie comforted its nervous handler and a chihuahua jigged. The motion from the toy dog momentarily caught Peaches' eye but Jacqueline was on the ball: a subtle tug on the bitch's beaded lead brought her attention forward once more. In that short space of time before the introduction of the group winners, Jacqueline got Peaches onto her feet and nervously went over her coat one more time with a small slicker brush she'd tucked into a small pocket in her skirt. Peaches cast one long, final look up at her handler, who took a steadying breath, met her dog's gaze, and loosened her grip on the kangaroo leather lead between them.
"The winner of the Working Group: Siberian Husky, number seven!"
A camera moved in slightly on their left but neither dog nor handler paid it any mind. The spotlight came from across the arena to greet the pair at the gate and, at the cue of the man ushering them into the ring, the representatives of the working group took to the carpet. Jacqueline took to a medium jog, doing her best to block out the sound of the packed arena's applause by repeating the boss's words over and over in her mind. Peaches, on the other hand, was unbothered by the noise and took to her standard flying trot at the end of a loose lead, a full stride ahead of her handler but controlled so easily as to almost be on auto-pilot. Her mouth hung open slightly in a relaxed grin, as though going through her paces for broadcast on national television was something she did on the daily.
The pair arrived at their position in line and Peaches stepped right into a relaxed stack to wait for the other dogs.
"..American Staffordshire Terrier, number two!"
The last dog arrived in his place, the lights came on, and the judge and stewards were introduced in quick succession. Jacqueline moved Peaches a half step forward to re-stack her and held a piece of bait to her chest, barely visible between her fingers, to keep Peaches interested. The handler preferred to not obscure the outline of her dog by standing or crouching behind her, and so stayed in front to offer the judge a fair look. Said judge took a glance over each of the dogs and then, when finished with her first impressions, gestured to Jacqueline to take Peaches up.
Cheers erupted again. If ever there was a time to
get it right, it was now. With a deep inhale, Jacqueline walked up to the head of the ring with Peaches walking briskly at her side.
Let her do what she does best. The handler arrived at the pedestal and turned to face the Siberian Husky bitch, raising the bait to her breast again. Peaches lifted her head, set her hind legs, and took another small half-step toward Jacqueline before freezing in place with only her soft, foxbrush tail waving slowly at her hocks. The crowd erupted. There was nothing they loved more than a great free-stacking dog.
"A sled-pulling dog for centuries in Siberia, the Siberian Husky came to Alaska for sled racing in the early 1900s. They dominated these races and gained fame in the Nome Serum Run of 1924 and in Antarctica with Admiral Byrd. Today the breed continues to excel as a sled dog, as well as a companion dog with a loving, if sometimes headstrong temperament. This is Siberian Husky, number seven."
Jacqueline grinned and let out a huge exhale. She did not even try to adjust her dog's limbs - Peaches simply did not have a bad angle. The judge approached, taking a moment to study the clear outline of the dog - no sharp angles, no hard lines, just a dog that was as beautiful as she was functional.
The woman approached Peaches' head and the bitch's expression automatically lit up; the slight waving of her tail became more prominent and she turned her head to get a better look at her examiner.. directly seeking out eye contact and fixing the strange woman with a sharp, intelligent, but not unfriendly look. For a moment she opened her mouth to pant relaxedly but the judge cupped her face and she shut her close-lipped mouth once more.
Her lips were peeled back before anything else was done so the judge could check her bite: scissors. Good. Peaches sneezed when her lips were released to clear her nose of the funny squished feeling. The gesture made Jacqueline smile and inwardly pray the judge didn't mind - it was hard to be mad at a dog that oozed arrogance despite being wrapped in an adorable, fluffy wrapper...
Peaches relaxed her head in the judge's hands again, making no effort to even look for the bait - she was too interested in staring the judge in the eye while the woman ran her fingers up along her muzzle and the top of her head, measuring an equal length of skull and muzzle met by a significant, but not coarse stop. The judge's hands felt her ears, strongly erect and soft, then ran down the front of her throat to her chest. Peaches tipped her head forward and flicked her tongue out at the judge's hand but Jacqueline gave a soft tug on the lead and Peaches relented.
The judge took only a minute to run her hands the length of Peaches' body; they traveled down along her shoulder blades, around her ribes, along her topline and over her hips. Some pressure was needed in feeling the bitch's well-muscled frame under her dense coat, but the woman's efforts would be rewarded by the open angles and long lines of a dog meant to move for long periods with ease. Peaches handled the judge's examination unflinchingly, tail still wiggling the whole time.
"Down and back, please," the judge said curtly as she finished at Peaches' hindquarters, gesturing down the length of the ring. Jacqueline nodded and turned away from Peaches, causing the husky to step out of her stack and follow the young woman in a single spin to collect herself. Peaches bounced a couple of times during this spin out of excitement she'd been holding in. Her handler let out a silent laugh and waited a few seconds for the dog to settle before raising her hand and taking off at a medium jog.
A working dog should look like it was bred to
work, and Peaches certainly did. The Siberian Husky is the sports car of Arctic sled dogs and this particular one was no exception: her strides were long and ground-eating with great extension in front and follow through behind, and though she was a small dog, covering great distance in little time was something she did effortlessly. She was nothing if not a light, effortless mover.
She was a stride or two in front of Jacqueline, on a loose lead all the way down to the end of the line.. There, dog and handler pivoted almost without slowing and returned to the judge, Peaches single-tracking with a 'grin' the whole way.
When the pair reached the judge, Jacqueline stopped and took two steps backward, raising the bait to her chest again, and Peaches stepped right into her free stack once more - the professional, as always. The crowd again erupted and the renewed noise caused a renewed set of tail-waving from Peaches, just.. soaking it in, basking in the spotlight.
The judge came around again and took one more look over the whole dog, came back for a final look over her face (and Peaches eagerly, and perhaps arrogantly, met her eye), then moved around to get a final look at her limbs. Her limbs.. A good working dog is
nothing without a good set of legs, and Peaches', front and back, were perfectly suited to functionailty - well-set apart with gently angled joints from the hip and shoulder all the way down to the elbow and stifle, pastern and hock, and all the little joints in her feet. She is a straight-legged, correct example of a dog built to work and
last.
"And around, please," the judge dismissed after taking her final looks, gesturing for the pair to return to their place. Jacqueline once again jogged off, though this time it was with a huge weight lifted off her shoulders - and Peaches, recognizing this, flagged her tail leaving the judge and broke into a bouncing, enthusiastic run halfway back to her place in line, and completed the proud parade by excitedly jumping up on her handler once they'd come to a halt.
There was nothing else for it: either the judge liked what she saw or she didn't. All they could do now was wait and hope.
