There was a local dog show in the village this afternoon. At lunchtime, I got the phone call...

"Dad, can I enter Hector into the dog show?"

Sure. Why not. I figured it would be a cool to have a rosette on the side of his crate for Most Handsome Male or Dog The Judges Would Most Like To Take Home. To win, will be a piece of pie, I said to myself.

So, we stood in line with all the other dogs. There was a beautiful Irish Wolfhound there but as far as I could tell, he was the only threat. The judge wandered around a little - and it was a little. I thought she was trying to stretch out a cramp - and then, BANG! There were two Border Collies in the middle of the field named as winners.

What?

It may have been a little village affair but the judge could at least have mustered up enough respect for the spirit of an event called a 'competition' to at least look at my freaking dog before deciding - or any of the other dogs come to that. I love Border Collies as much as the next man - Hector is half of one himself - but what is this charade I see paraded before my very eyes?

Then, I may have said something along the lines of: "It's too hot for dogs out here to be cocking around with amateurs. I'm taking my dog and going home." I may also have said it quite loudly and tossed my hair over my shoulder like a princess.

And now - back to writing one word after another.