Show Dog Proves Just How Obsessed We Are, and Why We’re OK with It

In Show Dog: The Charmed Life and Trying Times of a Near-Perfect Purebred (It Books, $24.99) Josh Dean delivers an account of his subject using a quality not often associated with dog shows: sanity.

This may seem contradictory, considering the author is a man who chose to spend a full year of his life following a purebred Australian Shepherd through the show circuit. But Dean describes himself as a “dog person without a dog,” someone easily fascinated and delighted by the antics of hundreds of dogs in one place at one time.

He is also a seasoned journalist, having played in the World Elephant Polo Championships (yes, that exists) and having ran a marathon with his 64-year-old father, all for the sake of a story.

With Dean, curiosity reigns, making it possible to enter dog show subculture without the fanaticism of a disciple or the eye-rolling condescension of a cynic. He delivers an earnest, wry, and humorous look into what possesses dog show people to spend nearly all their free time and money primping and parading their pet in front of judges. The short answer: winning.

The Making of a Show Dog

Of course it’s much more complicated than that. Jack’s owner, Kimberly Smith, fell in love with Jack first. She agreed to show him if his breeder, Kerry Kirtley, remained his co-owner, second. So Jack is a family pet, living with Kimberly, but he is also a professionally-handled show dog, representing Kerry’s kennel on the circuit and attracting interested parties.

Knowing this, we begin to see what makes dog show people tick—an emotional bond with an exceptional creature.

Jack is a breathtakingly cute canine who understands well over 50 words. Yet at shows his handler, Heather Bremmer, has to signal Kimberly to hide from Jack’s view before he heads into the ring. If he sees his human mom he will being to quiver with excitement, and may not be able to stop in time to strut in front of a judge.

The Making of a Show Dog Person

The feeling is mutual. Kimberly’s teenage son likes to tease her by saying, “You love Jack more than me.”

The search for the root of this nearly human-to-human bond, one that is unique but just as strong, lies at the heart of Dean’s story.

Through Jack and the dogs and people he encounters, Dean uncovers bits of history that illustrate just how intertwined our two species are. For instance, the dreadlocked guard dog called the Komondor was bred to easily grow those cords. “They are intended to make the dog look like a sheep, so that a wolf/bear/thief won’t notice the dog there and will sneak up on the flock and then—oops—get a very unpleasant surprise.”

And while a lot of Komondors aren’t guarding sheep these days, they do guard their people.

The Dog Show Legacy

Dean tells of a handler who once fell in the ring while showing a Komondor. When another handler rushed to help her everyone yelled “Stop!” The dog had placed himself squarely between his human and everyone else, and stayed there until she told him it was OK to let help approach.

Those moments—proof that the bond exists—are the reason humans in this world preserve, advocate for, and show off the breeds that have essentially become a part of them.

That, and they really do love to win.

The sheer number of dog shows taking place year-round makes it possible to compete again and again in a relatively short time. And the justification behind entering isn’t too far from what you might hear from a gambler.

After a loss, a friend of Kimberly’s says, “There’s always another day.”

“Like tomorrow,” adds Dean, providing even the cynics with the comfort of knowing the dog show will go on.