| I’m just a dog breeder’s husband, I no longer rule my domain. Even if kindly invited from opinions I wisely refrain. I’m just a glorified kennel boy of minor importance I know. It seems my primary function is merely providing the dough. Now dog breeding is not inexpensive as you all no doubt are aware of. But the problem is not so much the money as the bustle, the wear and tear. Having studied the layback of shoulder and becoming an expert on feet, I still have not learned to give worm pills or how much the puppy should eat. My spouse spends hours grooming her Bred By Exhibitor bitch but when it comes to scratching my back her thought id to let the thing itch! Someday I hope that my wife’ll take me wandering to some foreign vale instead of inspecting the stifle of some Special stud at Hinsdale. Off in a crowded motel room after the dog show is o’er someone questions the judges decision while they reach for another drink more. It appears that his eyesight is failing his errors in judgment immense. In fact, if I did not know better you’d doubt he had any sense. One finds that the amateur’s bungling is no match for professional skills. A handler can hide what the owner admits as he tries hard his conscience to still. The din and the utter confusion of everyone talking at once leaves one weary, horse and insatiable and the next day a bleary eyed dunce. Sometimes late in the evening I’m Pottowattamie’s Bridget is somewhat out at the knee. But before I can answer the question I find my answer ignored. For some inexplicable reason my questioner’s suddenly bored. I’m only a dog breeder’s husband not that I mean to complain. But I find certain aspects amazing when I aspire my role to explain. I know at least where I’m going I’m rapidly going to seed. But I’ve learned all about Winners Bitches, I married the Best of Breed!!! |