Westminster! Even the name is big. When I think of our trip to The Big Apple
with our first show dog I am struck with the largeness of it all, the huge
amount of taxis, pedestrians and traffic, the skyscrapers, the Hotel
Pennsylvania with its 17 floors and 1,700 rooms. It is all large, larger than life. It
was everything I imagined and more. Well, minus the fairy tale ending of
going Best In Show, of course.
I decided to enter Westminster when my beloved show Beagle, Ch. Lanbur Lil
Mis Honey Pot, "Honey", completed her conformation championship. My original
intent was to retire Honey from the show ring, but then a friend suggested I
enter her at Westminster. That planted the seed that grew into the Big Dream
which lead us to the Big City. Why not share that experience with the dog that
as a six-month-old puppy walked into that very first show ring with me? We
are a team. It seemed only fitting!
So off I go with my husband Jim, more gear than we'd ever take camping for a
month, and one little beagle, all loaded up in my aging Ford Explorer. The
drive alone is big, approximately four and a half solid hours of highways and
high speeds. By the time we reach the Bronx I have developed a nice sheen of
sweat from driving in the heavy traffic for so long. No problem -- once we
hit the Henry Hudson Highway we have another hour of bumper to bumper, horn
honking, creeping, crawling, city traffic to catch our breathe in. Not to
mention the exhaust fumes.
We have no problems until we take a right turn onto Seventh Avenue, only one
block down from the hotel, and manage to squeeze through the crowds of
pedestrians only to be stopped by two police officers directing us over to the
right-hand side of the road behind a squad car. Who, us? What did we do? The
light was green...we were following a K-9 patrol car even...what could we have
done wrong? Well, it just so happens that there are many streets with NO RIGHT
TURN in Manhattan. Lucky for us the officer is sympathetic to my pleas of
innocence, or maybe he just feels sorry for the bedraggled country bumpkins
from New Hampshire in a beat up Ford Explorer with a Beagle for a show dog. The
lady driving the Lincoln Continental behind me is not so lucky. We see her
get a ticket and later find out those tickets run $90.00. Welcome to New York!
Getting back across the four lanes of street to reach the entrance of the
Hotel Pennsylvania only one hundred feet away is actually the most daunting
task of the whole drive but since this story is not supposed to be about the
drive alone I will spare you the details and jump right to the joy of unloading.
Basically, if you are going to be a Westminster newbie and arrive on Sunday
with all the other newbies and the paparazzi (I kid you not), you'd better
prepare to unload in the middle of the street, parked half in the crosswalk,
with hundreds of gawkers and passersby eyeballing you. Do not expect any valet
service unless you count the homeless man who offers to carry some of our two
hundred bags into the hotel for whatever we will give him. We are desperate
and so is he so it works out to be a win/win situation. In retrospect that
probably isn't the smartest arrangement for us country folk to agree to.
Desperation and near panic lead us to do strange things. Lord knows what that man
could want with my dog bowls and brushes but I suppose he could swipe the bag
with the tickets in it and be off to Westminster if he wasn’t a nice guy.
During our whole process of unloading and struggling to figure out HOW to
unload in the middle of the busy street we manage to attract the attention of a
USA/Animal Planet filmographer complete with tripod and movie camera. He
decides to set up right next to my truck, commenting about my beagle decals and
the reflection of the Empire State building in my window. I know he is only
filming us because we look like an accident waiting to happen. My husband is
struggling with loading as many of our things on our trolley as he can and he
is realizing two bungee cords are not going to cut it. Of course our trolley
isn't the official dolly used by all experienced exhibitors. Oh no, it is the
Total Trolley of Infomercial fame and it is proving to have 100 uses, but
none of them are doing my husband a bit of good as he struggles with the bags
and gear.
Meanwhile, I am doing my best not to blow my fifteen minutes of fame by
having a meltdown or making some stupid _expression that will haunt my dog show
days forever. It is the oddest feeling being on "reality" TV in the middle of
the street in NYC with hundreds of people rushing all around. Somehow we
manage to contain the usual yelling and four letter words that typically would
erupt under this kind of tension and the film maker finally gets bored and
moves on. His misfortune indeed, as no sooner has he left than the pile of
luggage that was barely strapped on the trolley manages to topple over into the
street and my husband finally gives that Oscar-winning scene.

The Hotel Pennsylvania:

At last we enter New Yorks' Hotel Pennsylvania which was built in the years
after World War I. This hotel is a giant among giants. With 1,700 guest
rooms, the Pennsylvania is one of Manhattan's largest hotels. From the front the
hotel looks grand and fancy, befitting the big band movie "Glenn Miller",
which was filmed there during the hotel’s better days. Glenn Miller and his
Orchestra opened at the Cafe Rough in the Hotel Pennsylvania on January 4,
1940, for a three-month engagement. Shortly after finishing this booking the
orchestra recorded Jerry Gray and Carl Sigmanâ's interpretation of the hotel’s
telephone number which must now be the most famous telephone number in the
world: "Pennsylvania 6-5000!"
The hotel’s lobby is teaming with people, dogs, gear and luggage piled high
on dollies. The Total Trolley continues to prove that it is not the wisest
choice for this hobby and tensions are running high. Day trippers abound asking
to take pictures of our dogs and I decide to grab a Diet Coke out of the
cooler as another exhibitor passes by muttering something to himself about
needing a beer or two or three.
It is all rather exciting, I think. I had no idea that regular people would
come to the hotel a day before the show just to take pictures of the people
and dogs arriving. With Madison Square Garden and Penn Station directly across
the street it is no wonder that it feels like the whole world has come to
meet our dogs. I have no doubt that you could bring a clean mutt from the pound
on this day, make up some fancy breed name for it, and get in on all the
adoration.
After waiting in line for about 45 minutes we get the keys to our room and
the service of a very outgoing valet named Frankie. Frankie is funny and he is
smooth. He knows just what to say as he is guiding us past the nice lobby
elevators and through the heavy swinging doors that lead to the hallway lined
with freight elevators. We join in with the long line of dog handlers and
dollies waiting for empty elevators that we can squeeze all our stuff and show
dogs into.
Frankie starts on his much-rehearsed speech about the hotel and the rooms.
He asks us if we are familiar with the scene from "Best In Show" where the
couple with the Norwich Terrier can't get their credit card to work so the hotel
manager puts them up in a supply closet. "We sure are," we say, chuckling.
"We own the movie!" Frankie grins. "That was a spoof on the rooms at this
hotel." He says. "Hmmmm...interesting..." we reply.
When our turn to ride the freight elevator is over and we enter the hallway
lined with rooms Frankie's story isn't sounding quite so funny. The carpet is
old and worn. The walls are bare of anything but dirt and dings. It's dark.
It's dingy. Now I am starting to see why this is a two star hotel. But it
gets worse, much worse, when Frankie, still babbling, opens the door to our
"room."
Honestly, I have never seen such a depressing hotel room. I don't know if I
can legally describe how bad it is. I think I may prefer the supply closet if
a clean toilet comes with it. There is one double bed and a shower stall.
The single window faces a brick wall and the ceiling has a section missing. The
bed doesn't even have the customary "ugly hotel comforter" on it and again
the walls are bare except for...well, you can guess… dirt and dings.
Immediately my husband is trying to negotiate with Frankie for a better room
but all Frankie can do is give us a manager’s number and a recommendation to
be NICE and not pushy when we call. I can't hear exactly what my husband
says when he calls but I do catch the words "extremely" and "grateful" and the
next thing I know we are heading back down the elevators to the lobby for a
new set of keys.
Back to the freight elevators we go praying that this new room is more than
a meager improvement over the last one. We are in total disbelief that such a
famous hotel could have rooms such as our previous one for the prices we are
paying to stay here! We leave the freight hall and enter the new floor that
is an immediate improvement to the eye. The carpet on this floor is not bad.
Gold-framed mirrors hang on walls which are clean and freshly painted. A
fancy table with a flower arrangement welcomes us to this floor. Two housekeepers
stroll past us chatting in Spanish. Even Honey seems to have an extra bounce
in her step on this floor.
As we approach our new room Jim and I are getting more and more excited...we
are on the front side of the building; the side with the views of Madison
Square Garden and the Hudson River. We continue down the hall and are getting
even more jubilant when we discover we have been given a corner room at the
end of the hallway. That should greatly limit the foot traffic noise!
Upon opening the door of our room it is as if a miracle has happened. The
new room has a huge king bed complete with the standard "ugly hotel comforter.”
It is light, bright and nicely decorated. It has a mini refrigerator and
there are TWO huge windows with incredible views. Madison Square Garden is right
across the street and the huge "Dogs Rule" banner hanging from it makes a
nice backdrop from our window. The other window looks up Seventh Avenue and we
can watch the multitude of taxis and people, many dog people, rushing here
and there. Horns are honking, and the city is looking frantic down below but
right now things are looking up, way up, for us.

The Garden:

On Monday Jim and I plan to go scope out The Garden (the common nickname of
Madison Square Garden) and watch some of the classes. We leave Honey in her
poshed out crate after I potty her down in the basement where the Hotel Penn’s
infamous "green room" is set up. You can potty your dogs in "the green room"
along with some of the most highly advertised dogs in the country and in
doing so you can be privy to some pretty comical moments which are probably best
kept to yourself. After you potty your dog you can also try out a jog-a-dog
treadmill or a doggie massage, or even make a deposit in the canine semen
bank, amongst other things. We decide to skip all that for today and head
directly to The Garden.
My first impression of The Garden is very positive. It is spacious, clean,
and has plenty of security and vendors. We scope out our box seats and soon
spot many of the usual characters down in the rings showing their dogs in front
of a sold out crowd.
After a few minutes of sitting in our seats we decide to mosey down and join
the masses of people cruising the benching area. Westminster is one of only
two benched shows left in this country. Exhibitors are required to have all
dogs not currently in the show ring present in the benching area so that they
are available for the public’s viewing on the day they are shown. Talk about
a mob scene! As we slowly make our way in the tightly packed crowd we feel
bad for the many exhibitors, dogs in arms, trying to get to the rings without
getting totally disheveled squeezing through the impossible mass of
spectators.
Over the course of the two days we spend at The Garden we discover that
expensive box seats are not really a necessity. Often spectators with general
admission tickets cruise the stands and slip into any available seats, always
upgrading when possible. We find ourselves doing the exact same thing and
actually only spend a fraction of our time in our own box seats which we
eventually sell. But that's a story for another time.
Monday night after the groups we decide to bring all our show gear over for
the next day to save time and stress in the morning. Since Honey has been
back at the hotel while we watch groups I ingeniously think we can kill two
birds with one stone by incorporating her evening walk into our gear trip. Back
across the street and down the side road we trek to The Garden with dog and
gear. It is now nearing midnight and the weather is nasty and cold. It rained
hard all day and is still drizzling as we hurry into the freight entrance of
The Garden, past security and up the ramp to the freight elevator.
Unloading our gear is a fairly quick process and we are tired but feeling
pretty good as we start back out of the benching area enroute to the labyrinth
of halls which will lead us to the freight elevator, back down to the
basement and out to the street. Unfortunately, I am about to learn a rather
unpleasant lesson on removing dogs from The Garden without carrying the yellow slip
of paper proving ownership on me. There I am, about to cry, arguing with the
security people who want to keep my dog, getting glared at by my husband who
is overtired and getting very irritable, and at my wits end because I am not
leaving my precious Honey in that building all night long. Finally a top
security officer comes, assesses the situation and takes my license to copy in
case any dogs turn up stolen at the show. I also receive a lecture on exactly
why I should appreciate their strict policy on removing dogs from the building,
which in retrospect I do. So folks, don't forget your ID slip for your dog.
Staple it to yourself if you must, but make sure you have it with your dog at
all times in The Garden. And with all you will have to remember if you are
showing a dog at The Westminster Dog Show, believe me, that is easier said than
done.

The Big Day:

Manhattan is certainly the city that never sleeps and if it is the night
before Westminster, and you have a dog being shown, you probably aren't going to
get much sleep either. I certainly don 't. I’m up and in the shower at 6am.
All it takes is one little peek out our curtains to see the other dog people
up and on their way into The Garden to get me going.
Fortunately the water pressure in our shower is wonderful and before my
husband is even awake I am dressed and packed and ready to take Honey on a quick
trip down to the Green Room before heading across the street.
There’s certainly a palpable excitement in making our way into The Garden
this time. I also remember all my important papers, especially my
ownership/entry form. I am at my benching spot by 8am sharp and have time to talk to a
few people in our breed. Some I know, some I finally get to meet. Everyone is
"up" and excited. The big morning has begun without a hitch.
Tuesday’s crowd never does quite match the madhouse proportions of Mondays.
While there is a constant stream of spectators it never quite resembles the
mob scene of the previous day. For that we are all relieved. Since all the
exhibitors in my row have beagles, which are a fairly simple breed to touch up
on show day, almost everyone is grooming their dogs in the benching area. This
certainly attracts the public’s interest. It seems to me that the 13" beagle
Quincy, shown by junior exhibitor Alyssa Irwin, attracts the most attention
from the beagle loving public.
Beagles are scheduled for 11am. I am a bundle of nerves until Honey’s
breeder offers to take her in the ring. I jump at the chance to have his years of
expertise guiding my dog. I carry Honey through the crowds and wait for Jon
ringside. I’m excited yet very calm because I'm not worrying about showing her
myself. I admire all the beautiful beagles awaiting the call to enter and
before long Jon comes and whisks Honey away from me for a little "getting to
know you" time.
During the judging I feel much like a football coach on the sidelines. The
pressure is off me, but my little player that I’ve trained from a youngster is
in there without me. Honey behaves well for Jon but she doesn't seem quite
her usual self. I am sure that all the cameras, the huge number of spectators,
the extremely cramped rings and just the tension in the air affect my young
dog. There are twelve beautiful beagles in the class and Honey doesn’t win,
but we never expected that she would. She does look beautiful and shows well
under the circumstances. I am so proud of her. Looking back without the lights
shining in my face and the exuberant butterflies in my stomach I wonder if I
should have shown Honey myself. Though her breeder did a perfect job with
her and I know we still would not have won anything with me at the top of the
lead, at least I would have experienced the exhilaration of showing my own dog
at Westminster. Instead I have a rather hollow feeling watching from the
sidelines. In this respect I learn a huge lesson on this big day.

Best In Show:

Tuesday night the final three groups are set to show with the seven
finalists from all the groups then going up for Best In Show. The Garden is packed
and the atmosphere is charged. Jim and I happen to luck into some floor seats
thanks to a friend of ours that comes down with a horrendous head and chest
cold that is later termed "The Westminster Crud." Scores of participants,
including both of us, bring this nasty bug home with us to remind us of our New
York trip for several weeks to come.
As the remaining three groups are being judged I thoroughly enjoy the
camaraderie of all the well dressed dog people around us. Everyone is dressed to
kill. Many tuxedos and ball gowns fill the box seats and the judges all look
like they walked out of all day makeover sessions. Likewise the grooming of the
dogs is impeccable and the showmanship of the exhibitors and dogs that
remain for best-in-show are extraordinary. This is not your average dog show!
The German Shorthaired Pointer bitch "Ch Kan-Point's VJK Autumn Roses,"
a.k.a. "Carlee," that ultimately wins best-in-show steals my husband's heart
right from the Sporting Group. Her movement is nothing less than phenomenal.
During the Best In Show judging when Carlee stacks for judge Lynette Saltzman
and holds that stack for what feels like an eternity I feel my eyes welling up.
Carlee's movement combined with her now famous stack has our whole row of
spectators muttering that she has to have the win. Thank goodness Judge Lynette
Saltzman feels that same passion and when she points to Carlee I don't think
there is a dry eye in the building.
As Jim and I lead Honey and our soon to be obsolete Total Trolley (we buy a
real dog show dolly from CherryBrook) out of The Garden we hand the security
agent our entry/ownership form. The security staff collects all the forms for
the last time this year from all the exhibitors leaving with dogs. I hand my
form over with relief!
Back out on the street we are stunned at the number of people who are
hanging around to catch one last glimpse of the dogs. I still find the celebrity of
having a dog shown at Westminster amazing and cannot even begin to imagine
what it must be like for Carlee and her people. As we walk toward the Hotel
Pennsylvania for one last time Jim points out the Empire State Building. It is
lit up in purple and gold, the colors of Westminster, in honor of the show.
It is like the icing on top of the cake of a wonderful day. Huge.