The Joy of
Owning a "Real" Show Kerry

Adapted (and liberally embellished!) from Blues News and Reviews,
The Kerry Blue Terrier Club of England.

The Missus surveyed the Kerry on the grooming table after many hours of brushing, combing, shaping, and styling. Yes. This will do. This will do just fine. "Come on," she said. "Let's show you to the Boss." Off they went to the most discriminating of judges.

"Well. It looks like all those hours of hard work have paid off," her husband remarked. "She looks like a vision." Satisfied, they all went off to bed, as they needed an early start for tomorrow's show.

In the predawn hours of the next morning, the "Vision" was let out into the garden to do her duty. The other household members busied themselves with packing the car and picnic hamper.

When it came time to go, the Vision was nowhere to be found. "Now where could she possibly be?" wondered the Missus. After a walk down the garden path, the Missus spied the Vision--well, that part of her that was visible, which was mainly the hindquarters. With her rump in the air, stifles bent, the Vision concentrated on doing "her duty"--digging round and round a hedgehog, proving that Kerries do, in fact, "go to ground." The Missus stifled the scream that came. Surely this matted mess of mud couldn't be what she was taking to the show today!

Gritting her teeth, the Missus grabbed the "Vision" and headed directly to the dog bath post-haste. There, the Kerry was dumped unceremoniously into the tub and told in what can only be described as a tightly controlled, icy hiss, "Don't you dare move."

The Missus disappeared, then reappeared laden with shampoo, towels, and other bath gear. By this time, however, the fleas from the hedgehog were busily hopping on and off the Kerry, and making merry around the bath tub. "Oh no!" groaned the Missus, before stomping off for the flea shampoo, flea powder, and the rest of it. Then began the washing, rinsing, drying, brushing, combing, and muttering in what sounded like a plea to the Almighty to save someone (or could it be some animal?) from . . . was it . . . eternal damnation? Surely not!

The rest of the story that can be repeated here, is that the intrepid (for want of a better word) band of the Missus (who valiantly tried to regain her composure), the Boss (who valiantly tried to remain silent and unamused), and a rather damp--though not dampened--Kerry arrived at the show with time to spare.

Whether the Vision won or lost is not important. What is important is the moral of the story: The show must go on. (Or is it: Dogs will be dogs?)

Last Update: 11/08/07, 10:35:01  Terms of Use and Disclaimer.