Victory After Hours
By Valerie J. Till
Labrador Quarterly 2004 Spring Edition
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“She never eats when she’s on the road,” Martha said as I gazed at Chancey lying quietly under the vanity in the hotel room. Next to her sat the untouched bowl of kibble.
Somehow, Chancey not eating didn’t make any sense. This was a dog that never passed up a meal. She loved to eat and unfortunately, the extra pounds on her hips were lingering proof.
But, it wasn’t always that way.
Her official name was Chambray’s Chisholm’s Chancey.
You see, Chance was a show dog and in her heart, she still is. She was not just your average “a win once in a while” show dog but one of the most decorated bitches in the entire southeast United States.
She was a joy to behold and the judges consistently awarded her accordingly.
Now, after becoming a Champion, winning numerous Best of Breeds, Group placements, Judge’s Awards of Merit, having two lovely litters and capturing the hearts of all those who had the honor of handling her, she hitches a ride with her puppies and never misses a show.
There’s no staying at home and watching Animal Planet for this bitch cause she’ll never quite warm up to the idea of simply being a spectator. The lights, camera, and action still pulse through her veins just as much now as when she was walking off with all of the trophies.
The torch has now been passed to her offspring who are proving one by one to be chips off the old block. Each puppy carries a little bit of Mom with them into the ring and are fast becoming rising stars in their own right.
But, the attention was again being focused on Chancey.
Recently, Martha had started noticing a moodiness in Chance she hadn’t seen before. While traveling on the road in the hotel rooms, she would cuddle up with her little gray stuffed hippo and keep to herself. Oh, she seemed healthy enough but her old familiar spark was missing, her smiles weak and forced. And it became worse when we took her to the show sites, relegated her to a crate and abandoned her for hours at a stretch.
She became angry with passersby and barked without provocation.
“No! Stop that barking! ” we hollered as we all took turns chastising her. The corrections seemed to make matters worse as Chance quietly turned away from us and sunk into a depression. If you listened closely, you could almost have heard her heart breaking.
“I don’t get it, Sandy,” Martha said with disgust. “Ever since we’ve been showing the puppies, Mama Dog has really been bothered. Do you think she’s jealous?”
Sandy, who knows Chance like the back of his hand replied, “Well of course she’s jealous. She’s used to being the center of attention. Now she’s not and she doesn’t like it.”
Our troubles with Chancey continued as we all piled into the truck last 4th of July weekend and made tracks to the show in Palmetto, Florida. There was much anticipation since it was to be the first real competition for two of Chance’s puppies, Gracie and Lancelot.
After enjoying dinner and nearby fireworks, Martha and I went back to the show site and offered to help Sandy walk and feed all of the Chambray dogs that were registered to compete the next morning.
The Exhibition Hall was pretty much deserted and quiet except for an occasional bark and a small group of handlers scurrying to work in some last minute training with their dogs before show time.
Such was the case with our friend and professional handler, RonHahn.
Ron had brought a handsome, young Golden Retriever into the building to acclimate him for what would soon be expected. We sat and watched as he took the young buck through his paces, gaiting and stacking him and practicing down and backs. As Ron worked with that beautiful young puppy, he offered us words of advice on how to bring out the best in our own handling assignments.
I too had a brief opportunity to handle my own dog in the ring a couple of years back. Though I enjoyed the experience immensely, the partnership was a dismal failure and produced more jokes and laughter than first-place finishes. I had absolutely no intentions of handling a show dog ever again. That was as much a favor to the animal as it was to myself!
As Ron continued gaiting around with his energetic partner, he remarked, “ Man, I sure wish there was a couple of other dogs in here to go around with us.” Sandy’s daughter Jessie grabbed her newly acquired Viszla while her little brother Ryan ran into the ring with his puppy.
In a moment of clarity, I envisioned a scene before me as real and fresh as the dew on an early morning flower.
It felt so right!
“Quick! Get me a lead!” I barked.
“What?” Martha asked, already exhausted from the day’s activities and eager to head back to the hotel.
“What do you need a lead for?”
“I’m taking Chance into the ring. “ I said firmly.
“You’re doing what?”
I didn’t wait for any assistance from the peanut gallery. I grabbed the first lead I could find and made a B-line for Chance’s crate.
She looked up sadly as she heard the door spring open.
It was then she noticed the show lead in my hand…
Suddenly, her eyes were filled with that old competitive fire as she waddled as best she could towards the ring.
With sonar-like precision, Chancey set herself up as I cleaned her neck.
“Let’s go!” I commanded as she took off like a heat-seeking missile. She sailed around the ring with the exuberance of the youngsters jockeying behind her.
As we did the down and back, I almost felt like we had wings instead of feet.
Chancey and I were flying!
“What a wonderful experience it must have been to have handled this dog!” I recalled saying to myself, suddenly filled with a momentary twinge of envy.
The routine was tough as we neared the final line-up.
After a couple of placement changes and a bit of barnstorming, the judge pulled us out.
“FIRST, SECOND, THIRD, FOURTH!” his omnipotent finger pointed.
The Mama Dog and the Incompetent Handler had just pulled off the biggest heist of the millennium.
“You did it, old girl! You still have it ” I cried, as we both jumped up and down with excitement.
I took Chancey around one last time for a victory lap as the crowds cheered us on. The feeling was intoxicating. This was something I could definitely get used to!
I personally had never known what it was like to win First Place. Yet oddly enough, as I proudly looked down at Mama Dog, I realized that she had had that experience so many times, it was as natural to her as breathing.
We claimed our ribbon as we left the ring and then headed back to the hotel for some much-needed sleep.
As soon as we entered the room, Chancey promptly ran over to her food bowl and ate every single piece of kibble. Martha and I looked at each other dumb-founded.
Amid visions of blue ribbons and dying applause, we turned the lights out for the night, unprepared for what would occur next.
I suppose none of us will ever really know what sorts of thoughts went through Chance’s mind in the silent darkness as she grabbed her little gray hippo and suddenly crawled off of her Mom’s bed.
The streetlights just outside the window captured her silhouette as she alternated glances back and forth between Martha and I.
It was then that she decided to leap onto my bed.
I recalled the sweet sigh of resignation as Chancey finally settled into the soft pillow and quietly fell asleep for what would be the remainder of the night.
It had been a long but glorious day.
“You can’t believe how much of a statement that was,” Martha insisted the next morning, referring to Chancey’s bed swapping.
“She wanted to sleep with her handler,” I boasted proudly.
“You’re not kidding!” Martha said.
Thanks to Chancey, I gained a very important victory after hours that night in that deserted show ring.
I learned that despite our age and our shortcomings, whether we have two legs, or four, all of us have a need to belong, to be loved and appreciated by those we hold dear.
And that dreams can become accomplishments as long as we believe in ourselves.
And that the true value of winning is not so much about ribbons as it is about the triumph of our souls over our own fears.
And as I laid in the dark that night with Chancey, I quietly hugged her for making me feel like a champion but more importantly, thanked her for the education of a lifetime.
And though it had undoubtedly been said countless times throughout her phenomenal career, it begged to be reaffirmed once more in the darkness of that Florida hotel room:
WOW, WHAT A DOG !
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