Blue-Ribbon Living

Cedar when she was a tiny puppy.

The comedy Best in Show, starring Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara (some of my favorite actors from sitcom Schitt’s Creek), came to mind when the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show recently awarded its Best of Show. Laughter is one good thing, and Best in Show is a wonderful comedy. So is Schitt’s Creek.

But, back to Westminster. When I saw a picture of Sage, this year’s blue-ribbon winner, in the paper, I said, “Really? But that isn’t even a dog!”

Sage with her handler, Kaz Osaka. Source: New York Times

I mean . . . do you think that is a dog?

No matter what I think, Sage of Houston, Texas, beat over 2500 competitors to be this year’s #1 at the Westminster Kennel Club show. The award does not include a purse, although Sage and her progeny will surely claim top dollar in breeding fees.

Lots of people, including me, love dogs. (One of my friends is convinced I know the names of all the dogs in our neighborhood. She is pretty close to being right about that — I know most of them.) Lots of people, including me, need diversions from the sturm und drang of living in our crazy world. (This blog, for me, is one such diversion.) Westminster ticks a couple of those boxes for some dog lovers. But, if I am honest, I find the whole enterprise a little puzzling.

I looked into this a little bit, and it turns out that Westminster is not just a dog show, it is a dog conformation show. That means purebred dogs are judged on how well they conform to the standards for their particular breed. In other words, Sage not only best represented her breed, miniature poodle, she also represented her breed better than any other dog represented its respective breed. If that makes sense.

Here is my puzzlement: Dog breeds are human-created. Human beings decide if the breed should be large or small, have pointy noses or smooshed-in faces, have curly, straight, long, or short hair. The dogs no doubt have their own preferences, but they are not consulted in the matter. And that strikes me as a little strange. A little bit hubristic maybe? Playing God maybe?

Where working dogs are concerned, breeding for certain characteristics does make sense. You want your herding dogs to gather sheep. You want your hunting dogs to lead you to game. You want your St. Bernards to carry kegs of beer down the mountain in television commercials. You want your Clydesdales to be strong enough to haul stuff around.

Oh wait. Those are horses. You get the idea, though.

I do not fault anyone for having preferences. I have my own, in fact. Although I prefer mutts, I think some pure breeds are gorgeous. I especially like setters and retrievers. I have even owned one, and possibly two, purebred dogs.

In my twenties, I adopted Cedar, the tiny puppy in the photo above and the prima donna in the photo below. She was pure Irish setter, bred by friends who owned her mother, Splash. Splash was beautiful and calm. Cedar was beautiful and crazy. I could tell you stories! I loved her anyway. Not because she was a beautiful, purebred Irish Setter, but because she was Cedar. We shared a mutually loving bond. And that, for me, was blue-ribbon living.

Cedar.

Some years after Cedar died, my little boy developed a fear of dogs, the result of a couple of scary encounters. But he wanted to like dogs, and I wanted him to overcome his fear. So, we headed off to Buddy Dog, a dog rescue shelter in Sudbury Massachusetts. We walked slowly down the row of cages, studying every dog. Dogs came right up to their cage bars to greet us, all of them longing for attention, begging for love. When we reached the end of the row, my son said, “I want the golden retriever.”

“Golden retriever?” I asked. I hadn’t noticed a golden retriever.

My son led me to a cage where, curled up at the back, in the saddest possible ball of a “don’t-look-at-me” dog, was an enormous golden retriever named Cinnamon. She was deep in mourning, her entire body language communicating despair. She looked to be pure-bred, but who knows? Who cares? We adopted her.

I once asked my son why he had chosen Cinnamon. “Because she looked so sad,” he said. Cinnamon not only helped him get over his fear of dogs, but, right from the get-go, she also gave him an opportunity to exercise his compassion muscle. Win-win. We loved her. Not because she was a maybe-purebred golden retriever, but because she was Cinnamon. We shared a mutually loving bond. And that, for me, was blue-ribbon living.

Blue-ribbon living is developed in loving relationships. Any relationship that increases the amount of love flowing through our world is one good thing. One very good thing, indeed. For some of us, our animals inspire bonds of love. (And if we can’t or don’t develop loving bonds with our animals, that’s a signal that we should find someone else who will love them.) We love our animals whether they are purebred or whatever mixture nature dishes up when animals are left to their own devices.

Dogs may not be a key that opens your heart to love. Maybe you prefer other animals. Maybe you aren’t drawn to animals of any kind. You inspiration may come from coaching an Odyssey of the Mind team, or doing story hour for little children at the public library, or singing in a community chorus, or teaching high school chemistry, or volunteering at the soup kitchen, or rowing on a rowing team, or a host of other things that provide an opportunity for you to develop relationships with others. There are many ways to open our hearts. You probably know intuitively what works for you.

Sage-who-doesn’t-look-like-a-dog is an official blue-ribbon winner. That means nothing to her, although I am sure it is a point of great pride for Kaz Ozaka, her handler. But, in my mind, Sage’s true blue-ribbon living is lodged deeply in the relationship she enjoys with Ozaka. See for yourself. I love the moment in the following video when Kaz Ozaka bends down to embrace Sage. Yes, he is overjoyed because Sage won Best of Show, but his love for his dog is so obviously central in that moment.

I read that the Westminster Dog Show was the last one for both Ozaka and Sage. They have both retired from the ring. Now Sage may have a more normal dog life. She may even look like a dog at some point, too, if her fur is allowed to grow out. Regardless of Sage’s hairdo and — critically — regardless of the vaunted Westminster title, Ozaka will probably love Sage just as much as he did before. My guess is that they were engaged in blue-ribbon living even before Sage ever entered the show ring.

Love,

Sylvia